


Four Weddings & a Funnel;

by tmntransformer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmntransformer/pseuds/tmntransformer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This sucks.” He informs his drink, swirling the last bit of it around in his glass as he resigns to drinking himself into a coma, alone at the bar.</p><p>“Really, really sucks,” agrees someone a little croakily, behind his right elbow. He’s been drinking steadily for the past three hours and it’s been almost half a decade since he heard it in person, but Tsukishima would recognise that annoyingly grating voice anywhere.</p><p>“Hinata.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiddolane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiddolane/gifts).



> eeeeep, this is my hq!! summer holidays exchange for @kiddolane:  
> ~ idk how close this will be to your expectations, so sorry if i'm way off the mark, but i tried to sneak in as many of your pairs as possible to make up for it, (okay the tananoya & ennomoto are self-indulgent but they're hardly there at all)!  
> ~ the tsukkihina grows in time, promise !!  
> ~ i got really carried away...
> 
> (￣ ￣||||)

Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s surprised. This is more or less exactly how he envisioned it playing out. It’s possibly even a little worse. He can’t believe he let himself be hoodwinked along by Yamaguchi’s earnest smile and Akiteru’s not-so-gentle insistence. He sighs deeply, squinting at the mass of bodies shuffling around in the half-light. It’s almost embarrassing that as great as they are at volleyball no one seems to know how to dance.

“This sucks.” He informs his drink, swirling the last bit of it around in his glass as he resigns to drinking into a coma, alone at the bar.

“Really, really sucks,” agrees someone a little croakily, behind his right elbow. He’s been drinking steadily for the past three hours and it’s been almost half a decade since he last heard it in person, but Tsukishima would recognise that annoyingly grating voice anywhere.

“Hinata.” Hinata grunts in acknowledgement, throwing back a shot that smells an awful lot like straight vodka and wincing dramatically. “What are you doing?” Of all the people to crash his pity-party-for-one Hinata might be the worst.  

“Tap dancing,” Hinata responds dryly, placing his empty shot glass onto a stack already three tiers high and dragging another into line in front of him, “aquatic acrobatics,” he winces slightly less as he slams the second empty shot glass down, “practicing my yodelling.” Tsukishima stares at him, brain turning slower than usual in his head due to his own alcohol consumption. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Hinata turns to glare at him then, scowl deep set between his eyes and Tsukishima almost forgets to answer he’s so thrown off.

“You don’t like weddings?” He asks slowly, understandably sceptical. A huge sappy display of affection, a dancefloor filled with mostly ex-volleyball players and never-ending free cake sounds like something straight out of one of Tsukishima’s worst nightmares, which makes it exactly the sort of thing Hinata would love. Hinata wrinkles his nose, as if he’s only just been made aware of the absurdity of the situation.

“I like weddings,” he hedges, voice wavering around the edges, “I’m just not a fan of _this particular_ wedding.” Tsukishima nods.

“Oikawa is annoying.” Annoying at the best of times, such as when he’s limited by time and geography to how often he can spam Tsukishima with mundane messages about his life. The day of his wedding is definitely not the best of times. He’s been completely insufferable, glowing with happiness in such an obvious and obnoxious way that Tsukishima isn’t even surprised it’s pissed someone else off. It’s not even the real thing, just a party in celebration; they were officially married weeks ago in Argentina. Hinata snorts, turning away from Tsukishima to flag the barman down.

“I don’t mean Oikawa.” Tsukishima isn’t sure whether he was supposed to hear that and finds himself gazing in the direction of Hinata’s narrowed eyes out of morbid curiosity. He hasn’t seen Hinata in a while, but he’s still the same. His face is still round and pudgy, _baby fat,_ he’d insisted all those years ago. His hair is the same shade of shocking orange, maybe it’s a little shorter than before – it’s hard to tell in the half-light, especially when his eyesight is growing fuzzy around the edges – but it’s still recognisably Hinata. Definitely not an impressively dedicated imposter.

And yet he sounds so unHinata like that it’s affecting how Tsukishima would normally react to him. Normally he’d roll his eyes, snidely remark about how his height is as inferior as ever and turn away from him without a second thought. That’s their thing, their entire dynamic. It would be silly to mess with a pattern so set in stone. Normally he wouldn’t. And yet here he is, twisting his body down to Hinata’s level, pressing his head next to his until they’re almost touching, all in order to follow his gaze precisely. To unriddle this riddle that he didn’t ask for.

“Oh.” Close to the far window, at the edge of the dancefloor, tucked behind so many other bodies that Tsukishima has to lean forward to be sure he’s seeing correctly, Kageyama has one hand resting on Sugawara’s shoulder, the other one planted firmly around his waist. They sway gently, Kageyama with obvious panic even from this distance, and Sugawara at a soft, gentle pace. “It’s like watching a swan dance with a plank of wood.” Hinata slams a shot glass down onto the counter. Tsukishima doesn’t even remember the bar tender filling his order.

“Here.” His voice cracks as he roughly slides over a shot to Tsukishima, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “I got you a round too.” Tsukishima sniffs at the drink. He was right; it’s straight vodka. He stares warily at the eight remaining shots as Hinata knocks back another.

“I didn’t know a round consisted of five vodka shots.” Perhaps if Hinata were anyone else he’d be a little bit worried. Then again, perhaps if he were anyone else, he’d be worried for Hinata.

“This might shock you Shitty-shima, but there’s a lot you don’t know.” Hinata barely slurs his words, which really shouldn’t impress Tsukishima as much as it does – Who knows how much he had to drink before he spotted Tsukishima at the other end of the bar after all? – Still, he’s not impressed enough to not bite back.

“Yeah. Like the King of the Court over there finally making a move on his dream boy. And you _still_ sitting on your feelings. I would have bet good money on you blurting it out by now. You can never keep your mouth shut.” He decides to throw back the shot mostly to ignore the hurt etched deep in Hinata’s face when he turns to stare at him.

“Like you’re any better. I saw Yamaguchi earlier–” He cuts himself off, mouth snapping shut into a firm line. Even now, after so much alcohol and mostly unwarranted unpleasantness, even now Hinata can’t find it in himself to deliberately hurt Tsukishima. To say something mean despite how true it is. Despite how much he deserves it. It pisses Tsukishima off.

“You have no idea.” Tsukishima growls, straightening his back in order to regain his height advantage. His eyes flicker unconsciously to where he knows Kageyama and Sugawara are still holding each other. Sugawara’s face is glowing with how bright his smile is. “I could have confessed to him hundreds of times.”

“Could have,” Hinata nods, sliding another shot glass over to him as he takes one between his thumb and forefinger for himself, “but you didn’t.”

“No.” Kageyama’s face is softer than Tsukishima’s ever seen it before. It reminds him of the way Yamaguchi looks at Yachi. He takes the shot glass from Hinata wordlessly. He doesn’t need to invent excuses for Hinata’s benefit. _What we have now is more than enough. He’s probably straight. He only sees me as a brother. He has a girlfriend. I’m happy so long as he’s happy._ None of those are the real reason he’s never found the right words to tell Yamaguchi to choose him.

“Next time,” when Hinata turns to look at him then it’s the closest he’s looked to how Tsukishima remembers him all night. There’s fire in his eyes. He licks his lips, blinking slowly as if remaining focused on Tsukishima’s face is taking him a lot of effort. “Next time I won’t be too scared.”

“Next time?” Tsukishima tears his gaze away from Hinata to throw back his shot, focusing on the burn in his throat in order to ignore the thudding in his chest. Of course Hinata would be the kind of person to see through Tsukishima. Of course he’d know fear is the only thing that’s ever really held him back. Hinata knocks his empty shot glass down next to Tsukishima’s.

“Mhm. Can you _believe_ he told me before he did it? I could have stopped him then. It could have been me who’d used the romantic setting of a wedding to my advantage! But I wished him luck instead! He’ll never look at me like that.” Hinata flops forwards, forehead resting on the bar top, and groans deeply. “Next time I won’t be too scared!” Tsukishima leans over Hinata’s back to grab the next shot in his line-up. If this is how his evening is going to be, well he’s definitely going to take full advantage of the free alcohol he’s being offered.

“Next time.” He agrees; partly to placate Hinata, but mostly because he hasn’t been paying much attention. Hinata rolls his head to the side, blinking up at Tsukishima with wet eyes.

“Yes!” His lip wobbles and Tsukishima really hopes he isn’t about to break down; there are levels of pathetic he’s willing to put up with. “Next time I fall in love I’ll be brave!” He head-butts the bar top before sitting up and slapping his cheeks. “Wah! I _hate_ this feeling!”

Somewhere at the back of his mind Tsukishima knows he should be berating him for being so loud. He should definitely be telling him not to order anymore alcohol. Instead he watches as Hinata practically crawls over the bar, yelling his order at the startled barman. He’s a little amazing, Tsukishima decides. It’s not even been a day since Sugawara accepted Kageyama’s confession and Hinata’s already vowed to move on to a new love. Yamaguchi and Yachi have been together for nearly six years, if they count the first two years of awkward blushing and stammering – which, naturally, they do – and have lived together for over three of those. So why can’t Tsukishima find it in himself to let go?

“I want to let go.” He doesn’t really intend to confess that out loud, especially not to Hinata, the vodka is clearly affecting him, but it doesn’t matter as Hinata doesn’t hear him anyway; too pre-occupied with trying to haggle down the price of tequila shots.

“Here!” he scooches closer to Tsukishima, lining up his four drinks in an order that Tsukishima assumes must make sense to him. “You, me, you, me.” He points at each shot in turn. “This, that, this.” He gestures to the lime, tequila and salt. Tsukishima wants to point out that he’s pretty certain the salt comes first, but he doesn’t remember having ever done tequila shots and well, Hinata seems to be an expert drinker, so he must know. He fixes his glasses back into position and nods at Hinata’s eager face. Maybe the first step to letting go is to get drunk.

“Okay.”

“And then we’ll dance!” Tsukishima opens his mouth to say, no, actually there will be no dancing and not only because he’s unsure how well he can even walk at the moment, but the second he opens his mouth his protest is shoved back down his throat by a wedge of lime and Hinata’s cackling laughter. As soon as he spits it out a shot of tequila replaces it and he finds himself caught up in Hinata’s pace.

“Definitely worse than expected,” he shudders, surveying the empty glasses all around. At least maybe Akiteru would be proud of him, he’s forever telling him to let loose. He’s so busy trying to wrestle his phone out of his suit trousers to snapchat his evening’s success that he completely misses Hinata ordering fruity cocktails. By the time he focuses back in Hinata has three umbrellas decorating his hair and is looking at Tsukishima with a strange expression. Maybe he’s finally drunk.

“You’re different to how I remember.” Hinata nods, missing his mouth several times with his straw.

“Different?”

“Yeah. Like you lost your hard edges…” He slides a pink frothy mess at Tsukishima. “You look softer.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Hah! Maybe!” Hinata gives up on using his straw for its intended purpose, stirring his cocktail with it instead, before holding his glass out to Tsukishima. “Cheers then!”

“What are we cheersing to?” Hinata rolls his eyes as if Tsukishima is being difficult on purpose, but Tsukishima honestly wants to know. This will be the first time they’ve really acknowledged they’re drinking together. The mood has obviously changed but Tsukishima can’t work out why. Weren’t they supposed to be drowning their sorrows?

“To Oikawa and Iwaizumi!” Hinata yells, face breaking out into the first smile Tsukishima has seen him wear all evening. “And to failed first loves.”

“That seems a little inappropriate.”

“How?” Hinata tips his head to blink up at Tsukishima. “It’s the most propriate thing to cheers to!” He nudges his glass against Tsukishima’s when he realises Tsukishima isn’t going to make a move, forgoing straw failure completely to gulp his cocktail over the rim of his glass. His cocktail is a sparkly orange colour.

“Why did I get the pink one?” Hinata chokes on his drink, delighted despite the orange stuff dribbling out of his nose.

“It matches your face!” He’s definitely drunk, Tsukishima decides, throwing a hand out to cover his annoying little face and scowling when it falls short and smacks him on the shoulder instead. Hinata snorts, loud and long, leaning fully onto Tsukishima and plants a cocktail umbrella behind his ear. “It’s pink too,” he cackles, eyes shining a little from something other than tears. Tsukishima can’t decide if it’s a good thing that he seems to be bouncing back to his old self or not.

“To Oikawa and Iwaizumi,” he mutters, just for the etiquette of the situation, and swallows half of the pink froth in one. It’s nicer than it looks.    

“And failed first loves.” Prompts Hinata, eyes sharper than they have any right to be.

“It’s not failed yet.” Tsukishima hates that even he can hear how pathetic he sounds. How hopeless. How tragic he must look to someone like Hinata, who lived in hope all those years but has been able to accept failure only hours after Kageyama waltzed away from him.

“Hmm.” Hinata’s fingers drum on the counter-top; his lip between his teeth. “I suppose not.” He watches Tsukishima with wide eyes as he finishes his pink froth, smile curling at the edge of his lips. “Here!” He takes his empty glass only to give him a full one. A greeny-yellow concoction that’s decorated with lemon slices.

“Let me guess… because my face is green?” Hinata breaks out into fresh peals of laughter, doubling over and holding his stomach.

“No! Because you’re such a sour patch kid! _Duh!_ ”

“I’m twenty-three.” He out-grew kid years ago.

“I’m twenty-four so you’re still a kid to me!” Hinata ruffles Tsukishima’s hair as he stands up. “Now we dance!” Tsukishima groans.

“How are you even standing?”

“A lot of alcohol in a little time… Give me like an hour and I’ll be passed out.” He grins, completely proud and grabs onto Tsukishima’s arm. “The good thing about cocktails is you can drink ‘em as you dance!” That really sounds like a bad thing to Tsukishima, but if his night of misery is going to be warped into a night of public humiliation then he supposes he should be nice and drunk for it.

As it turns out Hinata can dance. Better than everyone else Tsukishima was watching earlier in the evening at least. Or maybe he’s just so drunk that it seems that way. His energy is captivating, even with his eyes closed and his arms sort of flailing above his head; his hips still sway perfectly in time with the music. Bokuto spots them first, followed immediately by Kuroo and Tsukishima is almost aware that he’s going to regret all the photos and videos he’s posing for in the morning for but for now he feels comfortably warm. Hinata’s orange head is the only thing he can properly focus on; it’s grounding. It’s not unpleasant.

“Tsukki!” Tsukishima hums, nodding his head at the voice but continues to watch Hinata chug down a beer. He can’t work out where he even produced it from. It probably doesn’t matter as half of it rolls down his neck anyway. “ _Tsukki!”_

“Hmm?” Tsukishima blinks. Everything is a little more frenzied than he remembers. Had Oikawa always been dancing with them?

“Tsukki!” A cool hand presses onto his right cheek, dragging his gaze away from Hinata.

“Yamaguchi?” He should have known. Why hadn’t he known?

“Are you drunk?” He’s concerned, that much is obvious, but Tsukishima can’t work out why. Isn’t this what he wanted? For Tsukishima to let loose? Have some fun? Is this what having fun feels like he wonders. It’s not a completely bad feeling.

“Maybe a little.” He sort of wishes Akiteru were here; he’s always wanted to see Tsukishima drunk.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Yamaguchi frowns, only slightly, but it’s there. It makes Tsukishima feel guilty. Whenever Yamaguchi needs him he isn’t there. This is why he’d never choose him.

“I’m here.” He shakes his head, holding onto Yamaguchi’s shoulder to stop the room from tipping. “What do you need?” Yamaguchi brightens immediately, grabbing onto the cuff of his shirt and dragging him away from the swaying bodies. Tsukishima thinks he should turn back and tell Hinata thanks for the drinks, thanks for the distraction, but he can’t make his head move. Hinata’s probably still got his eyes closed anyway. It’s not like he’d notice.

“Maybe I should ask you tomorrow…” Yamaguchi hedges when they reach a quieter part of the room, with a wall helpfully built for Tsukishima to lean off of. “You might forget otherwise.”

“I’d never forget something you asked of me.” Yamaguchi starts, giggling into the palm of his hand, but really Tsukishima was serious.

“You really are drunk, huh?” He pushes Tsukishima’s glasses back into place for him. “I’ll send you a message to remind you tomorrow,” he decides at last, eyes bright, “but I’m too happy to keep it in.”

“Keep what in?” In a dream world this would be where Yamaguchi confesses. He’d tell Tsukishima he’d realised over the past few weeks, months, years, that something with Yachi just wasn’t right. He’d realised there was always a sort of distance between them and it had clicked that it was because no one could be closer to him or mean more to him than Tsukishima does. He’d ring his fingers nervously, maybe even blush a little as he failed to make eye contact. Instead Yamaguchi clears his throat, straightens his back and looks Tsukishima in the eye, completely sober.

“Tsukki– Kei, will you be my best man?” It takes Tsukishima far longer than it should for him to process the question.

“Shit.” It feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but also a lot like he needs to throw up. There’s this ugly feeling seizing hold of him and Tsukishima wants it to stop, wants to know how Hinata was able to watch Kageyama so soft and warm in Sugawara’s arms and simply slap his face and move on. Is it that easy?

“She said yes!” Yamaguchi barrels on, seemingly oblivious, “I didn’t really plan to ask, just–”

“–Used the romantic setting of a wedding to your advantage?” Even Tsukishima is surprised that it’s a laugh that works its way out of his throat. Yamaguchi’s smile falters.

“Yeah… Tsukki are you okay?” And it’s too late now, years too late, Tsukishima’s just never noticed. Maybe he did have a chance once upon a time but that’s not now, that never can be and he’s not as mean as everyone thinks because from somewhere he manages to find a smile – which is difficult at the best of times – from somewhere he manages to muster the strength and cognitive skills it takes to pat Yamaguchi on the shoulder and to look him in the eye.

“Of course I’ll be your best man, idiot.”

“Thanks Tsukki.” He gets to see Yamaguchi blush after all. Gets to feel his warmth as they hug and it’s no longer an option; this will always have to be enough.

“You’re cruel Tadashi,” he whispers to Yamaguchi’s back. It feels weird saying his first name out loud.

“Tsukishima?” Tsukishima blinks, vision whirling until it anchors onto that head of orange. Of course.

“Hinata?”

“Are you okay?” He steps closer tentatively and Tsukishima gets the distinct impression it’s not from just the amount of alcohol in his system. “I didn’t mean to see– promise! I just– I saw him take you and– and I wanted to know.” Hinata admits with a shrug. Wanted to know that he wasn’t alone in feeling like this, Tsukishima supposes.

“No.” He admits, maybe for the first time ever. “Not okay.” And already it seems to hurt a little less now that he’s shared that. “He’s gonna _marry_ her.” Hinata kindly doesn’t react to the way his voice cracks, doesn’t mention the wetness rolling down his cheeks. “I’m gonna be best man.” Hinata simply nods, stepping closer and wrapping Tsukishima up in a hug like they’ve always been close like this. His hands rub soothing circles at the base of Tsukishima’s spine as if this isn’t the first time they’ve seen each other since they graduated high school.

“I know.” Tsukishima hears his own hurt echoed back to him. Maybe Hinata’s been faking the brave face all this time. Maybe, like Tsukishima, he got so used to playing the part that he doesn’t know what to do when it’s fallen away. He pulls away to stare at Hinata, for some reason it’s important that he finds his own broken-self mirrored in his eyes; it’s important to know he’s not alone. Hinata sniffs, wiping his tie across his eyes like a tissue.

“Hinata.” And when he blinks up at Tsukishima he sees it, sees the same hurt that he’d worn when he first sat down next to him at the bar and Tsukishima wonders how he could have ever thought it had gone away. It’s intense. It’s beautiful, in a way, to witness someone as strong as Hinata broken and vulnerable.

So maybe that’s why Tsukishima finds himself pressing their lips together. It’s only for a second, for as long as it takes his brain to catch up with what his body is doing. Hinata stares at him, mouth hanging open.

“Shit. Sorry.” He makes to detach himself, but Hinata’s grip increases around his waist.

“Shitty-shima!” He growls, pressing into him on his tip-toes. Tsukishima flinches, squeezing his eyes closed for the punch that lands on his face in the form of Hinata’s wet lips. It lasts a second longer this time – long enough for Tsukishima to trace the shape of his mouth with his tongue. It’s Hinata who pulls away too, leaving Tsukishima with the open mouth.

“Uhm…” Tsukishima blinks to try and sort his way through the situation. There’s something happening here that he should probably stop. It doesn’t seem wise to continue. The look Hinata’s giving him suggests he’s waiting for a decision one way or the other. There’s a quirk in his left eyebrow that has Tsukishima feeling strangely breathless. “To failed first loves.” Hinata’s hands slide around from his back, small fingers hooking into the belt loops at the front of his trousers.

“Where do you live?” He asks, tugging Tsukishima away from the wall. “You’re taking me home.” It’s not a question, but even so Tsukishima doesn’t think about protesting.

\- - - - - - -

Tsukishima wakes up and immediately regrets it. His head feels like it’s about to split open. The sunlight through the window assaults his eyes sending splinters of pain straight through his skull and he wants to get up and close the curtain but his body has decided not to be cooperative. He’s also pretty sure Hinata accidentally ripped the curtain off its railing last night too. He sits up, suddenly awake. His eyes flit frantically around his room, sweeping over the discarded curtain. Right now that’s the least of his problems.

“Shit.” The suit he’d rented for the wedding is mostly in a pile by his bedroom door, as if he stepped out of it the second he crossed the threshold – everything except for his tie, which is still dangling awkwardly around his neck. – He can feel a blush rising up his cheeks and wills it to go away. Memories of Hinata’s fumbling fingers giving up on trying to de-tie him and dragging him towards his unmade bed rise in his mind.

He stumbles out of bed, trying to silence the ringing in his head and squash the panic that’s settling at the pit of his stomach. He’s woken up alone, that much is obvious. But the mattress next to him still felt warm and he finds a glass of cold water on his bedside table, a handful of painkillers sprinkled at its side. It’s after he’s shimmied into a clean pair of boxers and swapped his tie for a t-shirt, decidedly ignoring how he’d woken up naked in nothing but a tie, that he hears it. Soft humming. Tsukishima stares at his door, noticing for the first time the sliver of space keeping it from being completely closed. He creeps closer; the humming gets a fraction louder.

The closer he gets the more he recognises the melody, a tune from one of Akiteru’s video games: The Lost Woods from _The Ocarina of Time_. It’s kind of mystical, floating across the floor. He trails in the direction it's coming from. Maybe once the painkillers take the edge off of this headache he’ll even find it nice.

His apartment isn’t big by any means and it takes him no time at all to find Hinata busying himself over Tsukishima’s stove. A flurry of thoughts flitter through his head – he can’t believe Hinata’s still here; he wants to apologise for last night, to thank him for the company, maybe offer to reimburse him for some of the drinks (maybe all of them), to ask if his head is hurting as much as Tsukishima’s is, and to maybe make him promise never to tell a soul that he cried last night or begged for Hinata to – his mind snags on the sight before him.

“That’s my top.” His voice sounds like it’s being scraped out of his throat with a metal scourer. The humming stops as soon as he’s spoken; the magic tapering off into silence around them, only the pan on the stove dares to make a sound, sputtering away intently.

“Ah, sorry,” Hinata picks at the bottom of the t-shirt, it’s at least four sizes too big for him, “I would have asked but you were out cold.” He rolls it up as if he’s about to take it off, flashing Tsukishima a glimpse of his toned stomach, littered with red marks. Tsukishima’s not going to test it out but he’s pretty certain at least half of them match the shape of his mouth; the rest are suspiciously thumb shaped.

“No!” Hinata quirks an eyebrow; paused semi-undressed. Tsukishima clears his throat. “You can wear it.” The t-shirt drifts down slowly.

“Thanks.” They stare at each other, Tsukishima wondering if Hinata remembers as much as he does about last night, or if he woke up naked this morning in Tsukishima’s bed and just put two and two together. He can’t decide which he’d prefer, but for some reason he gets the impression it’s not necessary for him to clarify. The atmosphere doesn’t feel weird at all. Figures Hinata would have no shame.

“What are you making?” Hinata’s smile dissolves onto his face.

“Scrambled eggs on toast! It’s my hangover fix, I hope you don’t mind I used all your stuff.” Tsukishima shrugs.

“It’s fine so long as I can have some.” Tsukishima flops down onto his counter, pillowing his head onto his arms. He watches Hinata mosey around his kitchen, opening and closing every cupboard in his search for plates, cups and cutlery. He could have offered some direction sure, but that takes almost all of the fun out of it. Hinata too seems to be enjoying himself, gasping in triumph whenever he finds what he’s searching for.

“Usually I make them a little better than this,” he admits with a flushed face, “but your stove doesn’t like me very much.” He places a plate in front of Tsukishima. A glass of orange juice slides next to it. All things considered it might actually be the worst plate of scrambled eggs on toast Tsukishima has ever seen in his life; the toast is charred so much it’s barely even recognisable as toast anymore, the eggs are both overcooked and undercooked depending where he focuses and there seems to be some kind of attempt at seasoning which has instead congealed into a hardened lump in the middle of the eggs.

“Thanks.” The least he can do, Tsukishima figures, is suffer through the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs. It’s his penance. Hinata glows opposite him, smile so bright it takes the edge off of the bags under his eyes and the disarrayed hair on top of his head. Tsukishima swallows a mouthful of supposed egg in his throat, averting his gaze from Hinata’s hair as memories of his fingers grasping at it threaten to seep into his head.

“Ah,” Hinata hums, blush working its way high onto his cheeks, “you do remember then.” Tsukishima almost chokes, trying his best to gulp down some orange juice without Hinata noticing. He doesn’t do an amazing job, if the pleased sparkle to Hinata’s eyes is anything to judge by.

 _No need to be so smug about it._ He wants to say. _So what if I remember? If you’re going to make fun of me, just go ahead and do it already._ But he doesn’t. Hinata is watching him carefully, the warm glow on his cheeks mirrored slightly in his eyes. Just slightly. It looks even better than the cracked expression he’d worn last night, more like his old self. Tsukishima clears his throat.

“Yeah,” he admits, “I remember.” Time passes as Tsukishima watches Hinata eat his breakfast, munching around huge mouthfuls like some kind of overgrown hamster who doesn’t know what real food is meant to taste like. “Thank you.” Hinata holds his gaze, burnt crumbs decorating his chin.

“What for?” He looks honestly perplexed, clueless as to how anything he’s done is worthy of Tsukishima’s thanks.

“For last night,” Tsukishima shrugs, “for being there.” Hinata opens his mouth, but no words come. “For the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs too I guess.”

“ _H_ _ey!_ ” Hinata’s mouth closes into a pout, “They’re not that bad!” Tsukishima laughs so hard he almost snorts up the cardboard he’s just worked so hard to force down.

“Sorry,” he wheezes, not sorry in the least.

“Definitely softer than ever!” Hinata exclaims, throwing out a finger accusingly. “It wasn’t just because I was drunk!” Tsukishima shrugs. Probably Hinata’s just encountered way more assholes in his life since he last saw him; Tsukishima definitely hasn’t changed. Hinata hums thoughtfully. “Want me to do the dishes before I go?”

 _You’re leaving?_ “You’ve already done enough.” Tsukishima waves his hand dismissively, confused about why he can never say what it is that he wants to say. Or why he even wants to question Hinata’s departure. “The least I can do is my own dishes.”

“Very, _very_ soft, Soft-shima,” Hinata trills, bouncing out of the kitchen. He listens to the sounds of Hinata rummaging around his bedroom, smirks as he thuds his shin into something and lets out a string of curse words. Maybe Hinata has just gotten harder since high school. The Hinata from Tsukishima’s memory doesn’t swear half as much, and certainly would never have– at least the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs are good for shutting down unnecessary thoughts–

“Hey,” Hinata pokes his head into the doorway, suit pulled into a rough semblance of what it looked like last night. Tsukishima stares at the top two missing buttons and wonders if he had any part to play in their disappearance. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?” There’s that look again, the one where it’s as if he’s waiting for Tsukishima to figure his way through something.

“Alright.” Hinata’s parting smile is so dazzling it would rival the smiles Tsukishima remembers him wearing when they were teenagers were it not for the red around his eyes and questionable stains down the front of his jacket. It’s so dazzling it leaves Tsukishima a little breathless in its wake, a little confused as to why he’s still forcing his way through the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs when Hinata isn’t even around to see.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold water doesn’t help as much as Tsukishima was hoping it would. Sure, he feels awake and slightly refreshed, but now he also has water dripping down the collar of his shirt and the hair gel Akiteru had tweaked perfectly into place for him has gone floppy. He blinks at his reflection in the mirror. The concealer he’d used to cover up that unwelcome spot on his chin has been washed off too. Figures.

“Good.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Great.” Of course he’d look like an absolute mess on the biggest day of his best friend’s life. It’s a pretty big day for him too, he supposes. He straightens his tie, frowning when it just seems to become more crooked. He breathes deeply, counting slowly in his head. He can do this. He can totally do this. A series of rapid-fire knocks echo from the other side of the door. It can’t be time already.

“Give me a second.” Or two, or three, or another lifetime maybe where he’d done everything differently.

“Soft-shima?” Tsukishima whirls around in surprise, blinking disbelievingly as the door eases open a slither, just enough to let Hinata squeeze his way into the bathroom. His hair is just as short as the last time Tsukishima saw him; his eyes a little less red.

“This is a private bathroom,” he states needlessly. Only people actually in the wedding were supposed to be able to get back here.

“Well, yeah, but I figured you might be in here.” He grins unapologetically. “How you holding up?”

“You came to find me?” Not that Tsukishima’s been keeping track or anything, but it’s been ten months since Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s wedding; ten months since he last saw or even spoke to Hinata.

“Mhm,” Hinata eases the door closed behind him. “We should probably stop meeting like this. I’m starting to forget what you look like when you’re not in a suit.” Something about the way he says it makes Tsukishima's skin prick slightly; a slight hotness growing on the back of his neck.

“I’ve already forgotten what you look like not in one.” He means for it to sound like a scathing retort, but the widening of Hinata’s eyes lets him know he’s failed.

“Pfft!” Hinata slaps a hand over his mouth. “Was that a _line_?”

“What?” Tsukishima can feel the heat creeping up from his neck. “No!”

“Shame,” Hinata clicks his tongue, “all you needed was a sultry _care to remind me?_ after and you were golden.”

“We’re in a bathroom.” Not the most sultry location Tsukishima’s ever found himself in.

“Oh? So if we weren’t in a bathroom, you _would_ use a line on me?” Tsukishima gets the distinct impression he’s lost somehow.

“Did you come to find me just to be annoying?” He checks the time on his watch exaggeratedly. “I’ve actually got somewhere I’m supposed to be.” Hinata takes a step closer, peering up at Tsukishima with something very close to care.

“I know,” he breaks eye-contact, staring consideringly at Tsukishima’s tie for a second before reaching out and straightening it for him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay.” Weirdly okay actually; much better than he was feeling a few minutes ago.

“You sure? Because I brought you some tequila. You know, just in case.” From the inner pocket of his suit jacket Hinata produces a flask, smirk curling on his face. “No salt or limes though, I tried that once and it’s kind of gross getting it out of your pocket.”

“Plus you don’t even know the correct order.” Tsukishima had looked it up after; salt _is_ supposed to come first. Hinata huffs as if that’s not relevant, which okay, maybe it isn’t, and starts to unscrew the cap. He holds it out to Tsukishima.

“Do you want some or not?” Obviously he wants some. In fact now that he can smell the alcohol he’s starting to wonder how he thought he’d get through the ceremony without it. He shrugs, but Hinata must see through his mask of indifference because he grins triumphantly and pushes the flask into Tsukishima’s hands. It’s cold.

“Cheers.” He toasts in Hinata’s direction before gulping down a huge mouthful. This is adulthood he guesses, grimacing at the harsh flavour. Hinata takes the flask when he holds it out to him in offering.

“What are we toasting to?”

“Yamaguchi and Yachi?”

“Hmm, okay.” Hinata throws back the flask himself. “To Yamaguchi and Yachi!” He shudders, passing the flask back over to Tsukishima. “And to Kageyama and Sugawara.”

“Oh?” He narrows his eyes. Was Hinata doing that pretend happy-smiley thing again? Why was it so difficult for Tsukishima to tell his fake smiles apart from his real ones?

“Mhm, didn’t you hear? Suga-senpai proposed. They’re going to take a trip to Europe for the ceremony and then do a party back here for everyone.” His smile doesn’t even falter as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Shit.”

“I think Finland is where they’re aiming to honeymoon. Kageyama’s always wanted to see the northern lights.” For a lack of something to do Tsukishima takes another drink.

“Are you okay?” Maybe Hinata had sought him out for some kind of common thread of pain; he finds it comforting to be around Hinata after all.

“Eh?” Hinata makes a circular motion with his hand as he has another mouthful of tequila. “Yeah.” He hesitates, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. “Yeah, I mean I guess I have to be, right? Because he’s my best friend. I want him to be happy.”

“Right.” Tsukishima agrees. His chest feels a little lighter knowing that Hinata is going through the motions the same way. People always say stupid things like _you want him to be happy, even if it’s not with you?_ In a perfect world of course the answer would be no. No, he only wants Yamaguchi’s happiness when it’s twinned with his own. But the world isn’t perfect – he learnt that a long time ago – and he’d much rather stay by Yamaguchi’s side in this way, watching him be happy, than nothing at all. It’s simple really. It’s too late for any other ending. Hinata nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Good. Now drink the rest of this and go knock ‘em dead!” Probably the wrong time for fighting words but Tsukishima does as he’s told, trying his hardest not to grimace at the unpleasant flavour.

“Thanks.” He reaches out to pat Hinata’s hair before realising that’s not really something they’ve ever done before. Hinata eyes his hand warily, and well, of all the new things they’ve done in their recent past, this is surely the least significant. His hair is thicker than it looks. Softer too, despite how short it is now. He opens the door, pausing to look at Hinata abandoned by the sink. “Will I find you at the bar after?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Maybe it implies too much.

“Maybe.” He’s smiling though, and it _looks_ real. Realer than before at least. “Did you pick out your own tie?” Tsukishima blinks down at himself, wondering if he’s made some kind of fashion mistake, even though Yamaguchi told him he could wear whatever he wanted so long as he was there. Yachi probably doesn’t hold the same opinion.

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason! It suits you!”

“Oh.” Tsukishima’s definitely missed something; the air around them is stifled with it. He raises his hand in a small wave, unsure if it’s really okay to just leave Hinata like this. He’s half way down the corridor when Hinata calls him back, head poking out of the bathroom door.

“I’ll see you later! You owe me a drink or two after all!” Tsukishima’s laugh is amplified in the small space.

It hits him when he’s stood at Yamaguchi’s side, listening to the way his voice doesn’t stutter once around his vows. His eyes find Hinata easily enough – his hair has always been hard to miss – tucked in the third row next to Kenma. He’s bent over, whispering something in his ear and doesn’t notice Tsukishima at all. Probably for the best. He wonders what it means – if it means anything – _it suits you_. He’d chosen a pink tie.

\- - - - - - -

“You’re late,” Hinata tells him around the straw in his mouth. “I was forced to buy my own drink.” The cocktail in his hands is a blue so light that it’s almost white. There’s sugar around the rim, Hinata collects some on his pinky finger as he sets it down, licking it off unconscious of the way Tsukishima follows the small darting movement of his tongue.

“Sorry, had Best Man duties to attend to.” Even when he tries not to he still manages to sound bitter.

“I figured as much,” Hinata hums, holding his hand out to signal the barman over. He looks at Tsukishima out of the corner of his eyes, smirking as he orders him a drink; Tsukishima knows before it arrives that it’s going to be the same pink concoction as last time. “To match your tie.” He says, when really he could have matched it to Tsukishima’s face again.

“Straight to the fruity stuff today? No vodka shots?”

“Maybe later,” Hinata fiddles with his straw, “actually definitely later, I promised Tanaka and Noya I’d do some with them at the chapel.”

“A chapel _is_ always a good place to make such promises.” Hinata throws out an arm to smack him, laughter light and warm and just like that the weirdness that was wriggling at the pit of Tsukishima’s stomach fizzles away. It’s not like they were ever the best of friends when they were teenagers, but they were teammates and they spent a lot of time together. It almost makes sense that Tsukishima feels so at ease around him.

“They’ll rope you in too you know, if you’re still around.” Tsukishima takes that as his queue to drag over a stall, folding himself into it and inhaling half of his cocktail in one mouthful. It’s still just as sweet, but not in a bad way.

“I’ll still be around,” Tsukishima allows when it becomes apparent Hinata’s expecting him to reply. _Where else would I go?_ Hinata nods once, lip trembling as if he’s repressing a smile. Tsukishima wishes he wouldn’t do that, especially when his real smiles aren’t quite as frequent as he remembers them being.

“Will you sing again?”

“What?”

“You have a pretty nice voice when you let go, you know. How comes I’d never heard you sing before?” Tsukishima blinks at him.

“I don’t sing.” Sometimes when he’s home alone and the radio is on he might mumble along, but that’s about it. He’s not now, nor ever has been, a sings-in-the-shower person. Or a sings-along-to-the-car-radio-with-his-windows-down type. It’s impossible that Hinata’s ever heard him sing.

“What are you talking about? You basically serenaded me with cheesy pop songs!” At the look of sick mortification taking over Tsukishima’s face Hinata throws back his head in a cackle. “You can’t tell me you _forgot?_ ”

“I can’t _forget_ something you _imagined_.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” Hinata rests his head in the palm of his hand, blinking up at Tsukishima rapidly. “I suppose I forced Kuroo and Bokuto to _imagine_ it too. I suppose the videos are all hallucinations.”

“No.” Tsukishima stares at Hinata, panic rising when he can’t seem to detect a lie on his face. “ _No._ ”

“Ohhh yes. Actually I got Kuroo to send me a copy a few months ago!” He fishes around in the inside pockets of his jacket. “I was worried when sober you’d sound awful, which totally ruins the magic of it, but you don’t entirely suck.” Tsukishima can’t help but notice his ‘pretty nice voice’ has been demoted to not entirely sucking. Hinata swipes his thumb on his phone a few times before shuffling closer and placing the screen between them. The quality leaves much to be desired – all jittery and the angle at a weird slant – but that’s definitely Tsukishima, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, singing along pretty enthusiastically for Tsukishima’s standards to awful pop music.

“I blame you.” He scowls. “And all your vodka shots.”

“Ah!” Hinata brightens immediately. “So it’s the vodka that’s your music juice, not the cocktails!” He leans over the bar, shouting out an order before Tsukishima has a chance to stop him. When he sits back it’s with a devilish smile on his face. “I can’t believe you forgot.”

“I remembered the important stuff,” he defends and then immediately regrets it. Just because that night was important to Tsukishima, doesn’t necessarily mean it was for Hinata. Perhaps he’s the kind of person who complies with the whims of all his broken-hearted ex-teammates. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“Important, huh?” There’s a soft edge to the way Hinata’s studying his face. It’s not pity exactly, but Tsukishima imagines it’s not far off. “Was that a line too?”

“Maybe.” If the night’s going to be a shit show anyway he might as well say what’s on his mind. “If you wanted it to be.”

“If _I_ wanted it to be? I don’t think you’re thinking this through. You’re wasting a golden opportunity here. Perhaps the chance of your lifetime.” The barman finally delivers their drinks and Tsukishima practically throws his money at him in order to not let Hinata spend another penny; it was supposed to be his round after all. When he turns back Hinata has lined up the ten shots into two rows of five and is beaming up at him.

“What the hell are you babbling on about?”

“You’re the _best man,_ ” he emphasises each word precisely, as if teaching them to a small child for the first time. “It’s basically the law that you have to take home the maid of honour.” Tsukishima wrinkles his nose.

“Uhm, no thank you.” He doesn’t know Yachi’s step-sister all that well and while he’s sure that she’s a perfectly lovely person, the fact that she’s a girl is a bit of a hurdle for him. He mirrors Hinata in picking up the first shot in his row and clinks their glasses together. “I’m not sure if you realised, but I’m pretty gay.” Hinata splutters on his shot, thumping his chest until his coughing subsides. Tsukishima smirks. Hinata would never expect him to be so blunt; he feels like he’s finally one-upped him at something.

“I realised.” He gets out at last, clearly intent on acting like he didn’t almost choke to death.

“Besides,” Tsukishima smirks wider. He’s on a little bit of a roll now that he knows what gets Hinata flustered. “You’re made of more than enough honour for me.” Probably a wink would have worked there, but he’s not that drunk yet so he settles for adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Holy shit,” Hinata lets out on a breath, eyes as large as the smile taking over his face. “That was _definitely_ a line!”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a fake shrug of nonchalance. He meets Hinata’s gaze head-on, still unsure if he’s read the situation correctly or if Hinata’s just been playing along out of pity the entire day. “It was.”

\- - - - - - -

Tsukishima wakes up, blinking his head at the ceiling to clear his eyes from sleep and groans deeply. It feels like someone has decided to take a whisk to his brain. He rubs his forehead, pushing his thumbs into his eyes momentarily and it’s only then that he realises his tie is wrapped around his head like some kind of ninja bandana. Well, at least they’d made some progress on the tie-removal front. His laugh morphs into a moan half way when the movement jiggles his head about too much. He sits up slowly, noting the painkillers next to the glass on his bedside table and the warm dip in the empty space next to him in bed.

It’s only happened once before but Tsukishima can’t help but feel like he’s done this hundreds of times as he finds some clean underwear and a t-shirt to shuffle into and floats down his hallway in the direction of Hinata’s soft humming. It’s a different tune this time, one that sounds suspiciously like the bike theme from the original Pokémon games.

“You’re just in time!” Hinata trills without even looking in Tsukishima’s direction. “I’ve made you your favourite breakfast: World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs.” He seems a little breathless, pink high on his cheeks. Maybe he actually set fire to the toast this time.

“How did you know?” He deadpans, dragging himself into a stool anyway and watching Hinata dish out his disaster. He’s wearing the same t-shirt he’d borrowed last time. Tsukishima wonders if that means anything.

“There was an incident with the milk,” he explains as he places it in front of Tsukishima, “it sort of exploded.” Tsukishima stares at the almost-white yellow paste on his plate.

“Sort of exploded?”

“Mhm.” He shrugs as if it couldn’t be helped.

“Well, I’m glad you made it out alive.” Although he wouldn’t have been entirely surprised to wake up and discover Hinata had managed to kill himself in some kind of milk-related explosion. He picks up his knife and fork, attempting to cut the sludge a few times, but it just congeals back together. Stabbing it and tearing it with his fork is met with similar amounts of success.

“I’ll get some spoons.” Hinata breezes after a moment, reaching out and opening the cutlery drawer on the first try. He seems disproportionately pleased with himself for his knowledge of Tsukishima’s kitchen.

“Y’know,” Tsukishima starts conversationally, eyeing the slug-like blob on his spoon as it flumps over the edge and seeps back into the mass, “I didn’t actually think it could get any worse but you’ve truly outdone yourself this year. Outstanding effort.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hinata breathes opposite him, eyes wide with mischief. He sniffs dramatically, “I wasn’t expecting this today. I’d like to thank not only my parents for their guidance and culinary wisdom, but also Suki and Ali, without whom I might never have burnt myself, or exploded the milk.” He gestures to Tsukishima’s microwave and stove in turn.

“Did you just _name_ my kitchen appliances?”

“Only Suki! Alibaba already had a name.” He flaps a hand at the brand sticker on the side of the stove, poking his tongue out at Tsukishima as if he’s bested him again.

“And you’re already on nickname status? How sweet.” He flicks a glob of the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs at him; it’s much more satisfying than trying to eat it ever was.

“Ack! No need to be jealous Soft-shima! I’m sure in time Ali will learn to love you as much as he loves me.” He collects the gloop from his arm and smears it all over Tsukishima’s hands.

“So burning is a sign of love now?”

“Of course! Hasn’t it always been?” He drapes himself across the counter. “Burning passion, burning loins and all that jazz!”

“Do you even know what burning loins _means_?” Hinata blinks at him.

“That even your crotch is bursting with desire?”

“Not quite.” But Tsukishima can’t bring himself to correct him. Hinata must detect something in the tip of his mouth though as he narrows his eyes and creates fake gagging noises.

“Gross!” He rolls his tongue out in disgust. “I didn’t know you were such a pervert, perv-Shima!”

“I’m not a pervert!” He flicks more gloop at Hinata. It splatters across his chest and arm and suddenly Tsukishima remembers that that’s his top; there’s no winning this war.

“I’m sure,” Hinata clicks his tongue, flicking his eyes from the mess on his arm to Tsukishima’s face, “that’s why you keep trying to cover me in your white stuff.”

“You’re disgusting.” He means for it to come off as an insult but Hinata beams across from him, blatantly flattered.

“I think you like it.” He stands up, wiping the mess on his arm onto the front of Tsukishima’s t-shirt.

 _Maybe a little._ “In your dreams maybe.” 

“Speaking of dreams…” Hinata trails off, a crafty smile twisting onto his face. It’s clear he wants Tsukishima to prompt him, so of course Tsukishima opts to ignore him, devoting himself to dissecting the glob on his plate. Hinata’s huffs, pout much too extreme for this early in the morning.

“Go on,” Tsukishima can’t deal with Hinata’s kicked-puppy expression at the best of times, “speaking of dreams.” He still doesn’t look up from his plate, trying not to smile at Hinata’s happy chirping sounds.

“I got you photographic evidence way in advanced this time, so you can’t accuse me of dreaming stuff up!”

“Oh yeah? Photographic evidence of what?” Tsukishima’s mostly made peace with his drunk-self serenading Hinata. It’s not ideal obviously, but it’s apparently only when he’s drunk surrounded by other drunk people; there are worst things he could do.

“Last night,” Hinata’s vibrating in his seat from how happy he is, “Tanaka, Noya, you and me pretended we were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

“What?” Tsukishima looks up from his plate then, narrowing his eyes at the absurd grin dominating Hinata’s face.

“I actually think it might have even been your idea! We pulled our ties up onto our foreheads and proceeded to fight off all bad guys!”

“What bad guys?” Hinata waves his hand dismissively.

“Everyone that wasn’t us! You were Raphael.”

“I see.” The angry one, of course. “And who were you?”

“Donatello!” Hinata cackles. “Mostly because Noya wanted to be Leonardo and Tanaka had already said he was Michelangelo, but I _am_ the smartest so it worked out fine.”

“Since when are you the smartest?” He grumbles, stabbing his sludge with his spoon. Hinata simply cackles again.

“That’s why you’re Raphael.”

“Yeah,” he agrees despite himself, “I figured that much out for myself.”

“Anyway I used your phone to document our adventure so you can’t pretend it didn’t happen this time! Or,” Hinata rolls his eyes, “conveniently forget.”

“I see.” It takes Tsukishima a second to locate his phone – drunk Tsukishima isn’t all bad as he left it plugged into his charger in the hallway; or maybe Hinata had done that for him this morning and is just pretending – and another second to make his fingers trace out the correct pattern to unlock it. Hinata peers over his shoulder, giddy with anticipation. He wasn’t lying. There’s easily a hundred photos of the four of them leaping around the reception hall and posing menacingly. There’s even a couple of him with his face squashed next to Akiteru, who looks delighted to have found his little brother so drunk. Drunk-Tsukishima too looks blissfully happy. “Thanks.” Hinata nods, face a warm pink again. Tsukishima looks at him; have his eyes always been such a dark brown? Hinata coughs, dispelling the softness around the two of them and bounces away from Tsukishima.

“And on that note I should probably go; I promised Natsu I’d help her with something today anyway.”

 _Something?_ He wants to ask. Surely that’s a lie he’s just invented as a reason to escape Tsukishima’s company. He doesn’t blame him, nodding to show he’s heard instead and following Hinata’s retreating back as he bounds into Tsukishima’s room.

“You want me to do the washing up before I go?” He yells, voice muffled through the wall. Tsukishima shakes his head, forgetting that Hinata can’t see him.

“I can do my own dishes,” he calls back. Hinata pokes his head out of his doorway, grin spreading from ear to ear.

“I figured you’d say that.” He giggles, making his way back towards Tsukishima as he roughly knots his tie together. “Even after the milk explosion too. You’ve really gone soft in your old age.”

“Shut up.”

“Stellar comeback Perv-shima, truly magnificent.” He kisses the tips of his fingers and throws them into the air above his head.

“I thought you were leaving.” Maybe Hinata hears the real question – _Why are you leaving? –_ in his voice, because he falters momentarily, tipping his head to the side and regarding Tsukishima.

“I am leaving. But don’t be a stranger this time, alright?”

Tsukishima could just agree like last time. It would be the smart option. The easy option. Tsukishima prides himself on always taking the smart and easy routes in life, and yet when he opens his mouth – “I don’t have your number” – falls out instead. Hinata’s smile explodes back on his face.

“Yeah, I figured that too.”  And he leaves, just like that. Tsukishima frowns, turning to regard the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs as if perhaps they know the meaning of that farewell. They don’t so Tsukishima resigns himself to spending the rest of his day in bed watching old cartoons. He finds his bed fully made, just like before, borrowed t-shirt neatly folded and placed on top. On the back of an old receipt, poking out of the collar of the t-shirt in hap-hazard scribble is a number.


	3. Chapter 3

In the following weeks Tsukishima finds himself increasingly absorbed in Kageyama and Sugawara’s relationship. He looks them up on Facebook almost daily, to see if they’ve announced a date yet, follows them both on Instagram, wondering if maybe they’ll post a picture of their flight itinerary, and on one particularly pathetic Sunday he downloads Twitter and tracks down Kageyama just to see if maybe he’s been updating that more frequently. He hasn’t. In fact Kageyama’s impressively sporadic with his online presence, making it difficult for Tsukishima to place events and photos in time.

Sugawara on the other hand updates his almost daily. Artistic crops on Instagram of their hands held together over coffee table tops, their shadows side by side in the falling autumn leaves, matching his and his towels in their bathroom. It’s a little therapeutic for Tsukishima. He’s never quite been able to bring himself to look at Yamaguchi’s or Yachi’s profile – especially not recently for fear of honeymoon albums – and so he follows Sugawara instead.

He likes to imagine that Yachi makes Yamaguchi smile as wide and dopey as Kageyama is in the photo Sugawara posts on that particularly pathetic Sunday; warm, bleary morning eyes, hair soft in the sunrise, wearing a baggy jumper that’s got a blueberry on the front of it. Likes to imagine that even now that they’re married they still find every day as special and noteworthy as Sugawara seems to, taking photos where their ankles lock around each other’s on the train. Documenting their small moments in time. He hopes Yachi too has made Yamaguchi soft where he once was hard, brave where he once was timid, happy where he once was sad. He hopes for it but he can’t bring himself to look for it yet; can’t bear the proof.

More than anything he hopes Hinata never finds morning blueberry Kageyama; Tsukishima barely tolerates Kageyama but even he’s a little heartbroken in the face of it. He wonders if Hinata checks up on them every morning over the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs, imagining himself as the photographer instead of Sugawara.

They get married in Ireland, after exactly no lead up to the event or even a notification to say they were leaving the country. Probably that was Sugawara’s intention, to leave everyone wondering when they were finally going to tie the knot and then surprise them all after it’s happened. The picture he posts is slightly blurry. And there’s a raindrop on the lens. In the background green fields stretch forever and a double rainbow can be seen parting through the grey clouds. Sugawara is stood on his tip-toes, hands cupping Kageyama's face. The hold Kageyama has on his waist is no longer shaky or uncertain. It’s one of the gayest things Tsukishima has ever seen. _Even the weather is celebrating with us today_ , reads the caption, followed by the date and their names. Sugawara Koushi Sugawara Tobio.

Tsukishima wonders who the photographer is, if maybe this time it really is Hinata. They’d have asked him to be the best man at the wedding, surely? Even though Ireland is a little farther than your average service there’s no way Hinata wouldn’t have gone if they asked him to. He is the type to take blurry pictures too. But what if it isn’t Hinata. What if, like Tsukishima, Hinata is discovering this new reality online. Has been spending his evenings bouncing from one social media app to another, just waiting for the day he’ll know for sure that it’s over. They’re married now. It’s a little painful to think about.    

And when one morning weeks later an invitation finally floats down through his letterbox, Tsukishima wonders if his heart thuds in his chest because he _feels_ Hinata’s pain, or if it’s not for another reason altogether.

\- - - - - - -

If Tsukishima had to guess he’d say it was his turn to find Hinata. Before Yamaguchi’s wedding Hinata had sought him out, but then again that had been an actual ceremony in a chapel with a scheduled time for service to begin. This is a conference hall Sugawara has managed to convince his boss to let him use for the evening, with the ambiguous instructions to _come whenever you can_ and to _bring your own alcohol if you want, but there’ll be a make-shift bar if you don’t want_. Tsukishima prefers it when things have clear guidelines he can follow. He’s brought a bottle of tequila with him, hoping it will at least make Hinata laugh. Only now that he’s here does he realise there’s no guarantee he’ll even see Hinata.

That’s fine too, he supposes. It’s not like they’d ever agreed one way or another; the last two times have been purely coincidental. It’s not like he came here for the sole reason of seeing Hinata – there are tons of other people here that he knows – it’s not like he can’t drink an entire bottle of tequila all to himself.

“Tsukki!” Seeing Sugawara in the flesh is a little embarrassing. It’s impossible that he could ever _know_ Tsukishima spends his evenings scrolling through his Instagram updates before he falls asleep. But the look he gives Tsukishima suggests that he might at least suspect it. “I knew you’d come!”

“Congratulations.” Tsukishima isn’t as socially inept as Akiteru often accuses him of being because he’s not only remembered to bring a gift, but he’s also remembered to congratulate the host. So what if his gift is an international travel card with some money on it. If anything it shows he’s aware they like to travel and didn’t want to burden them with a gift they couldn’t use. If anything it’s one of the most appropriate gifts he’s ever given. Sugawara smiles, so over-joyed that it sort of takes Tsukishima by surprise.

“I just _knew_ you’d come!” He reaches up to dig his knuckles into the top of Tsukishima’s head, tucking the envelope into his inner pocket at the same time. “Tobio insisted that you’d be a no show. But look at you! Completely here! In a suit too! I think I’m in love with you Tsukki, you wouldn’t believe what Tobio said he would do if you showed up.” He sighs wistfully. “My reliable kouhai; I knew you’d pull through for me.” Tsukishima stares down at Sugawara, his brain mulling over what he’s saying.

“Kageyama thought I’d be a no-show?” He frowns consideringly. “Did my response not arrive?” He’d waited exactly a week before sending the reply saying he’d attend. That way he didn’t look too keen.

“Nope we got it alright! I’m going to frame it on our wall now that you’re actually here.”

“I see.” Tsukishima does not see. He racks his brain, trying to think of a time when he’s responded to say he’d attend an event and then failed to show up. His mind draws a blank. There have been a few volleyball reunions and the odd Karasuno team game that he’s missed, but he’s always been upfront with his intention of not showing. He prides himself on consistently following through with his word.

“Ah!” Sugawara seems to catch on that he’s said too much – or not enough – and left Tsukishima puzzled. “Not because he thought you were a liar or anything, just that,” he flounders, eyes boring a hole into Tsukishima’s head, “well I guess he thought wedding receptions weren’t really your thing.”

“Huh.” That would make sense except Tsukishima kind of likes wedding receptions. When someone else is the centre of attention he's learnt that it’s easy for him to blend into the background and get as drunk as he pleases. “But I wouldn’t miss such an important occasion as this.” A half-truth; it would have been questionable for him to attend Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s wedding reception and then fail to show up to his own senpai’s one. Even if it’s coincidentally Kageyama’s too.

“Right! That’s what I said!” Sugawara nods away to himself, clearly satisfied that he knows Tsukishima better than Kageyama does, despite Kageyama spending three years playing side-by-side him on the same team. “Man I wish he were here to see you.”

“He isn’t here?”

“Oh no, he’s here, he’s just not _here,"_  Sugawara gestures emphatically at the space between the two of them. “Oikawa dragged him away for a drink and a dance ages ago. There’s no telling when he’ll come back.” Tsukishima glances at the room around them. It’s a little crowded but it’s not a huge space. If Sugawara really wanted to it would be easy enough to locate Kageyama, especially if he’s with Oikawa. “I guess I’ll just have to take photographic evidence!”

“Ah.” Tsukishima should have seen this coming. He should have definitely seen this coming. He turns abruptly away, looking for literally anyone he can call over to save him, but ultimately he knows it’s no use anyway; there’s not a soul in this room who’d turn down Sugawara. Sugawara laughs light and airy as he jabs Tsukishima expertly in his gut, causing him to double over. From there it’s almost too easy for him to drape his arm around Tsukishima’s neck.

“Smile!” Tsukishima does not smile, but he does his level best not to scowl and from the delighted squeal Sugawara gives off when he checks to see if the photo is okay he succeeds, even if just a little. “Truly the best kouhai!” He digs his knuckles into the top of his head again, pinching his cheek roughly for good measure. “I’ll let you escape now. I’m sure there are a bunch of other people you’d rather be spending your time with.” He winks. Tsukishima blinks.

“Not especially.” The bottle of tequila feels a little heavier in his hand all of a sudden. When he was a first year at Karasuno Kinoshita and Narita had once tried to convince him that Sugawara could read people’s minds and though he’s never truly believed them he can’t help but feel as if Sugawara knows exactly what he’s thinking. He breaks eye contact, in case that’s what’s needed for his powers to work.

“Ah-huh,” Sugawara sounds completely unconvinced. “Well, I’ll let you go anyway. Hinata’s probably waiting for you at the bar.”

“I,” Tsukishima gapes. He’s not _looking_ for Hinata. Should they bump into each other, well, that would be a different and not altogether awful thing to happen, but he’s not come here with the _intention_ of seeing Hinata. That would not only be stupid, but characteristically unlike Tsukishima in every possible way. Sugawara quirks an eyebrow at him, biting his lip as if he’s exerting great control not to laugh in Tsukishima’s face.

He knows. Tsukishima can’t be sure what it is that he knows, but he knows _something._ He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When he opens them he catches Sugawara’s gaze unblinking.

“Thanks.” Let him think what he wants. Sugawara tugs at his other cheek.

“Now they match in redness!” And then he’s gone, leaving Tsukishima feeling slightly abandoned and completely alone. He’s close enough to the exit – it’s still only ten or so feet away – that he could just leave now. He showed his face, congratulated one of the grooms and was thoroughly embarrassed in the process; what is there left to do? It would be so easy to run away. To disappear. To ignore the feeling clawing its way up his throat. His hand clenches around the neck of the tequila bottle. He walks forwards.      

It doesn’t take him long to find the make-shift bar, wedged as awkwardly as it is in the far corner of the room. His eyes do a quick scan of the people decorated around it; there’s no flash of orange. Which doesn’t matter, it’s just strange that Sugawara would say he’s waiting at the bar when he’s so obviously not. He wonders if it would be completely rude to pull up a stool only to drink his own drink. He’s still debating when someone barrels into his side.

“Tsukki!”

“Noya-san?” Not the small energetic person he was expecting.

“What are you doing here?” Tsukishima stares at him.

“I was invited.” Nishinoya almost chokes on his laughter, so amused that he looks like he might actually start crying. Clearly, he’s had a head start on drinking.

“Yes! Of _course_ you were invited! But you showed up!”

“Naturally.” Tsukishima is starting to suspect he’s made a reputation for himself as the type of person who wouldn’t be caught dead at weddings. On a normal day this would thrill him slightly. Now it just makes him feel vaguely awkward, as if everyone is wondering why he’s showed up in the first place.

“Eh? What are you talking about!” Tsukishima didn’t even notice Tanaka appear at his other side, but it makes sense; they’ve always been a package deal. “Tsukki _loves_ weddings!”

“ _Wha–_?” Nishinoya whips his head up to stare at Tsukishima with wide eyes. “Is that true?” Tsukishima has literally only been to two weddings in his life, both of which are overpowered in his memory as starting off completely sucking and ending with Hinata.

“I guess.” He decides. He doesn’t hate them as much as he always anticipated he would, and that’s almost the same.

“I can’t believe it! Regular Casanova!” Noya elbows Tsukishima in the side affectionately.

“He loves a good party!” Tanaka chortles matter-of-factly. Tsukishima isn’t actually fond of parties, but he’s fond of alcohol so in a way that’s the same thing. “Don’t you remember at Yamaguchi’s wedding he was doing body shots off of Shouyou?”

“Eh?” Noya blinks slowly. “Is that right?” For a second Tsukishima thinks the question was aimed at him and panics; he has absolutely no recollection of body shots of any kind, but well, he also didn’t remember serenading Hinata that time so it’s within the realm of possibilities that his drunk self has found new ways to be embarrassing.

“Yep!” Tanaka puffs out his chest. “You were probably a little distracted though and that’s why you can’t remember.”

“I’m never distracted!” Nishinoya growls around Tsukishima, attempting to swat Tanaka away. “It’s _you_ who’s always distracted!”

“Yuu,” Tanaka runs his fingers through Nishinoya’s fringe, smiling fondly, “you were doing body shots off of me at the same time. I just remember Shouyou vibrating next to me with giggles.”

“Oh.” The fight leaves Nishinoya in an exhale of air. “Probably I was too distracted to remember.” His ears glow red. “You know I can’t focus when you get naked! That’s not fair!” Tsukishima is starting to wish like he wasn’t here for this particular conversation. Tanaka hums consideringly, holding a hand across his chest and closing his eyes.

“I can’t even focus when you’re in the same room as me! That’s what’s not fair!” Nishinoya squeaks, kicking Tanaka lightly in the shin and heeling Tsukishima in the process.

“Idiot.” Tsukishima isn’t an expert on body language, but he’s fairly certain if he doesn’t leave now he’ll witness something that will make it difficult for him to ever face either of them again. He coughs loudly.

“Now we’ll all know that I love parties, I’ll be going.” He jiggles the bottle of tequila in his hands. “Bodies won’t take shots off of themselves.” But apparently he will. Nishinoya throws his head back in a cackle as Tanaka whops excitably and it’s then that Tsukishima realises that’s the exact wrong thing to say to shake them off. Tanaka guides him with firm hands at his back towards the bar as Nishinoya bounds ahead to assemble four stools in a row.

“I’ll ask for some glasses!” Tanaka announces after pushing Tsukishima into sitting down, clearly intending to mooch off of his tequila.

“Who’s the fourth one for?” Nishinoya smirks, and for a second Tsukishima feels as if he’s falling, because if Nishinoya knows, well then everyone knows. Yamaguchi knows.

“Tora!” He doesn’t have to sort out how he feels about the prospect of Yamaguchi knowing he’s dragged Hinata home with him after every wedding he’s ever been to, which is a good thing. He didn’t come here to examine his feelings. “He’ll be here in a second, he’s just…” Nishinoya waves his hands around erratically, “sorting through some things in the bathroom.”

“Ew.”

“No! As in, psyching himself up.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima can relate. “Who’s he in love with then?” Both Tanaka and Nishinoya freeze, staring at Tsukishima as if this is the first time they’ve ever seen him before. It’s a little unnerving so Tsukishima starts to pick the foil from around the neck of the tequila bottle.

“Tsukki!” Tanaka sounds like he’s on the brink of crying. “When did you start caring about other people?”

“I’ve always cared.” Nishinoya’s wrinkled face lets him know how believable they find that.

“Holy shit!” Tanaka smacks himself in the forehead. “Holy _shit_! You’re in love!”

“What?” He unscrews the lid and screws it back on again several times to vent the restlessness itching through his fingers.

“Love recognises love,” Nishinoya drapes himself over his stool, sighing dreamily. “Ney, Tsukki, which fair maiden has managed to crack your icy heart? Are they here? You can tell us! We’re the best wingmen!” Nishinoya flutters his eyelashes.

“We’ve promised our services to Tora tonight, but we’ll make an exception and squeeze you in too!” Tanaka claps a heavy hand across Tsukishima’s back. “You’re our precious kouhai after all and we want to see you happy!” He grins.

“I am happy.” He tries. He’s not feeling sad. That’s a happiness of sorts. Tanaka stares at him sceptically.

“I see.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Happy in the same way we’re happy, or happy in the same way Tora’s happy?”

“Oooh!” Nishinoya coos, perking up slightly and leaning on his elbow. “Good question Ryuu! Have the deepest, darkest affections of your heart already been returned?”

“Who is she?” Tanaka wails, grabbing onto the front of Tsukishima’s shirt as if he means to shake the truth out of him. He’s feeling nice so Tsukishima decides to throw them a bone.

“She’s a he.” He takes a swig of tequila in their startled faces.

“Hey! You guys promised you wouldn’t start without me!”

“ _We_ didn’t!” Tanaka throws an arm around Yamamoto, dragging him sideways into a hug. “Tsukki here is just a keen bean.”

“He loves a party!” Adds Nishinoya despite only being convinced of that fact moments earlier.

“And we strongly suspect he’s in the same boat as you,” Tanaka drapes his free arm around Tsukishima’s neck, dragging the three of them into a group hug. “Completely and utterly–”

“And gayly!” Chimes Nishinoya.

“–and gayly in love.” Tanaka sighs forlornly.

“So, pretty much like you two as well then?” Yamamoto grins toothily up at Tanaka, giggling when he's met with a growl and Tanaka's attempts to transform his hug into a head lock.

“Pretty much!” Nishinoya rolls himself off of his stool so that he can latch onto the three of them, planting wet, slobbering kisses all over Tanaka’s forehead.

“You guys are already at that stage of drunk, huh?” All four of them look towards the bar, Tsukishima mostly embarrassed to have been caught in such a public display of affection, but the other three seem a little jittery, almost panicked.

“Ennoshita,” Yamamoto’s face burns as he tries to detach himself from Tanaka’s strong hold.

“Chikara!” Nishinoya laughs breezily, patting Tanaka’s stomach as if to ground himself. “We haven’t even drunk anything yet.” He admits, eyes flickering cautiously to Yamamoto and back. “We were just celebrating our reunion.”

“Your reunion?” Ennoshita speaks slowly, gaze sweeping across all of their faces. “You had a sleepover together literally last night.”

“Not true! Tsukki wasn’t there!”

“Ah-huh,” Ennoshita smiles, obviously unconvinced but too polite to actually question why any of them would be this happy to see Tsukishima. “Well, what can I get for you all then?”

“You’re working at the bar?” The question is out of Tsukishima’s mouth before he can stop it. If he’d logically thought it through even slightly he’d see that was obviously the case. For a start Ennoshita is on the other side of the bar, and then there’s the fact that he’s wearing a bowtie and a waistcoat. Tsukishima would like to think that wasn’t the kind of thing Ennoshita wore by choice.

“Suga-san asked if I could as a present to them, and well, you know how impossible it is to say no to him.” He shrugs.

“Chikara works in a bar!” Tanaka loudly whispers in Tsukishima’s ear.

“He’s an expert cocktail maker; he can do all those cool tricks with the drinks.” Yamamoto’s gaze hasn’t left Ennoshita’s face. Tsukishima isn’t stupid. He’d recognise that look anywhere.

“I wouldn’t say expert.” Both Nishinoya and Tanaka let out exaggerated scoffs, rolling their eyes until Ennoshita laughs, leaning over the bar to try and swat at them with a dish cloth.

“In that case,” Tsukishima might be stuck in a hopeless love, but he’s not yet entirely bitter. “We’ll have four fruity cocktails.” He takes the bottle of tequila from where it was wedged in between his legs and places it heavily on the counter. “Plus four shot glasses, five if you want some.”

“And some salt and lemon!” Nishinoya is already back to hopping excitedly from one foot to the other, crowing into the air about how great all his friends are.

“Yeah, alright.” The corner of Ennoshita’s mouth tips up into something Tsukishima can’t decipher. “I’ll make the cocktails, but you best make that six shot glasses. Shouyou will only pout if you guys don’t include him.”

“Hinata?” Ennoshita nods once, softly.

“Yeah,” he gestures to the other end of the bar, “he got roped in by Kageyama to help me.” Tsukishima’s hands are starting to feel even more restless. He wants to look but he doesn’t want anyone to misunderstand. “I’ll get him to bring you guys the lemon and salt.” He floats off before Tsukishima can respond.

“Shit,” Yamamoto lets out a shuddering breath. “I wasn’t prepared for that.” Tanaka tuts, flicking him in the side of the head.

“What do you mean you weren’t prepared? You literally _knew_ he was working the bar!”

“Still! I didn’t see him coming!” Nishinoya chortles, clicking his tongue.

“That happens with me and Ryuu sometimes too.” He nods sagely. “Sometimes it’s better that way.” Tsukishima reaches for the tequila and it’s only then that Yamamoto seems to fully snap out of his daze, zeroing in on the movement.

“Bro!” He pinches Tanaka roughly. “You totally blew my cover in front of Tsukki!”

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Tsukishima shrugs, wondering when exactly Yamamoto decided that they were close enough for him to call him Tsukki. Maybe when Nishinoya announced them as completely, utterly and gayly in love. “You were pretty obvious.” Yamamoto lets out a deep groan.

“Obvious to everyone apart from him.” Tsukishima highly doubts that – Ennoshita seemed to be sending him an equal amount of warm smiles – but he’s not an expert on romance so he decides not to say anything.

“By the end of the night it will be!” Tanaka punches Yamamoto lightly on the shoulder. “Isn’t that the entire reason we are here?”

“Uhm…” Yamamoto looks around the room, almost like he wants to point out the real reason they’re here is in fact because Sugawara and Kageyama got married in Ireland on a rainy day under a double rainbow and have since returned to celebrate the occasion with all of their friends. At least that’s the thought Tsukishima is trying to telepathically send Tanaka as he takes a glance around the room too. “I guess.”

“You _guess?_ ” Tanaka reels away, completely aghast. “Well if you’ve got another reason for being here, boy, I’m all ears!” He pauses for exactly one second. “That’s what I thought! That’s why you’re here, all dolled up and flushed in the face. To see Ennoshita!”

“To see Ennoshita!” Nishinoya wails mysteriously, bobbing his head over one of Yamamoto’s shoulders.   

“To talk to him!”

“To talk to him!” Nishinoya pops up over his other shoulder.

“And to finally, after all this time, to confess your love!”

“To confess your love!” Tanaka and Nishinoya high-five, elated over their own performance. Tsukishima can’t help but imagine they’ve practiced it once or twice in front of a mirror at home.

“Right!” There’s a fire in Yamamoto’s eyes that wasn’t there before. “That’s right! That’s why I’m dressed in my best suit.” Nishinoya coos appreciatively, stroking the front of Yamamoto’s jacket. “That’s why I painted my nails.” He holds out his hands, displaying perfectly smooth black nails. Tsukishima would be lying if he pretended he wasn’t impressed.

“Ennoshita does like a good nail paint.” Tanaka nods his head to where Ennoshita is still busying himself with shaking their cocktails together. He has to squint, but even from this distance Tsukishima can make out that his nails are similarly black.

“Oh God, you guys are going to match when you hold hands. It’s so gay I might die!”

“I’m also wearing eyeliner.” Yamamoto smiles lopsidedly, watching the way Ennoshita’s muscles contract as he shakes the metal container. “I read an article that said it would make me more noticeable.”

“Your eyes look rad!” Tanaka cuffs him on the side of the face.

“But you know he’d notice you even if you were in your pyjamas, right?” It’s really not in Tsukishima’s usual repertoire of conversational inputs to be so encouraging, but there’s something about the open admiration that unfolds across Yamamoto’s face whenever he sees Ennoshita that makes Tsukishima want his crush to succeed. Maybe it’s how hard he’s trying, how much effort he’s put in, how maybe he wishes he was a little more like Yamamoto.

“I think everyone would notice him if he were in his pyjamas,” Nishinoya rolls his wrist around, “this is kind of a fancy thing. Can you _imagine_ the look on Suga’s face if someone turned up in their pyjamas?”

“Suga would probably find it funny; it would be Kageyama we’d have to watch out for!” Tanaka shudders. “Kageyama would skin us alive if we dared to ruin Suga’s special day.”

“You know,” Hinata smirks as he appears out of nowhere with six shot glasses held nimbly between his fingers, “ _technically_ he’s no longer Kageyama.”

“Oh.” Nishinoya and Tanaka share a look. “So they’re both Suga?”

“Ney, Ryuu, do you think Suga now moans _Suga_ when they’re in bed together?” The two of them burst into fits of giggles as Hinata ducks away to get them some lemon, salt and to drag Ennoshita over. Tsukishima didn’t even get a chance to say hi.

“Pfft,” Yamamoto is looking at Tsukishima incredulously, “and you said I was obvious!”

\- - - - - - -

Tsukishima is almost getting used to waking up and wishing he hadn’t bothered. The sun is high in the sky doing its level best to try and blind him and even that isn’t enough incentive to get him to get out of bed. A soft, lazy rendition of the _Harry Potter_ theme being hummed through his open bedroom door however just might be. He reaches out blindly for his glasses and it’s only as they slide into place that he realises he’s wearing his tie on his wrist, pulled together into what he supposes were once neat folds to make a flower. He decides not to take it off, smiling at the usual glass of water and accompanying painkillers.   

“Morning stranger!” Hinata beams at him, already perched on his side of the counter and pushing a ball of what looks worryingly like sponge around on his plate. He’s in the same t-shirt as before. Tsukishima smiles; he’d made sure it was washed. Just in case.

“Did I wake up late?” Normally he manages to catch Hinata before he’s finished making breakfast, gets to watch him flitter around his kitchen for a few minutes.

“Nah, I got up early.” He squirms, readjusting his weight on his stool. “Couldn’t sleep for some reason.” Tsukishima nods, scratching at the back of his head, he flicks his eyes up at Hinata and smiles.

“And you’re wearing your bow-tie on your head, because?”

“The same reason you’ve got a tie corsage wrapped around your wrist!” He holds his fork out at Tsukishima, voice petulant. “There was a fake prom moment.”

“Really?” Hinata narrows his eyes.

“You know I can’t tell if your drunk memory is awful or if you’re just being a dick.”

“A little of both.” He slides down into the stool opposite; eyeing the plate Hinata has laid out for him sceptically. “I remember Tanaka and Noya deciding that the best way for Tora to woo Ennoshita was to ask him to prom.”

“Mhm,” Hinata leans his elbow on the counter, chin resting on the back of his hand, “only we weren’t at a prom.”

“But we were already at a party.” Tsukishima cuts off a section of his own sponge with the side of his fork, not even surprised that it slides through with zero resistance.

“So Noya asked Tanaka if he’d do the honours of joining him on the dance floor, as if it were prom night all over again. As an example as how it should be done.”

“And then I asked you, for solidarity.”

“For solidarity?” Tsukishima nods. Dumber people than Hinata have come to the correct conclusion with less help. He shoves his forkful of sponge into his mouth. It’s chewy.

“What the fuck am I eating?” It tastes like nothing Tsukishima has ever put inside his body before. Maybe he wasn’t actually supposed to eat it. Hinata’s mouth tips up into a crooked smile.

“World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs. What else?” Tsukishima glances down at the poorly constructed sponge monstrosity on his plate.

“Of course. I should have known.”

“I didn’t use any milk this time, but it still turned out weird.” It almost looks like Hinata didn’t remember to scramble the eggs, and just left them to billow out and tumble into a huge, fluffy sponge egg disaster.

“Well at least there were no near death experiences. That’s an improvement.” He eats another chunk. It’s not entirely awful.

“Ah, I forgot the juice!” Hinata jumps up abruptly, pink tickling across the tops of his cheeks. Tsukishima swallows the sponge, mouth suddenly a lot dryer than before. Now would be a good time – as good a time as any other – for him to take a leaf out of Yamamoto’s book.

“Y’know, I–”

“Oh my God!” Hinata screeches, voice high and ugly. It grates along the inside of Tsukishima’s brain in exactly the wrong way. “I can’t believe you!” Tsukishima looks up from where he was reshaping his sponge blob into more of a SpongeBob type shape, to be confronted with Hinata’s wild, unblinking eyes.

“What?”

“All this time! You, you!” He splutters, pink seeping onto the entirety of his face. “You’ve had my number on your _fridge_?” He sounds way more hysterical than the situation truly needs him to be, Tsukishima thinks.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“You ‘guess so’?” Hinata makes little bunny quotation marks in the air, eyes flickering from the fridge door and back to Tsukishima’s face as if he’s unable to even process this chain of events.

“Well,” Tsukishima’s starting to feel second-hand embarrassment over the shade of red his face is morphing into, “it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s ‘not a big deal’?”

“Stop doing that with your fingers.”

“ _Not a big deal!_ ” He tears the fridge door open, grabbing the carton of orange juice roughly and practically slamming it on the counter in front of Tsukishima. “Not a big deal, he says!” He stomps over to the cabinet Tsukishima keeps his glasses in, nearly tearing the door off of its hinges as he opens it.

“Is it a big deal?” He watches in morbid fascination as Hinata yanks the lid off of the juice and upends it over their glasses. He doesn’t actually know where or if Hinata works, but judging from the amount of over-spill he doesn’t usually work at a bar.

“Just! I can’t believe it’s on your fridge and you never called. Not once.” There’s an edge to Hinata’s voice that Tsukishima almost recognises. It gives him hope even though he has no right to feel it.

“I wanted to call you.” Or at least text, but that’s not going to convince Hinata he’s sincere, “I just didn’t know if.”

“If?” Hinata’s eyes look like they might boggle out of his head. Tsukishima decides not to tell him that he’s spilling juice everywhere.

“If you’d want me to call.”

“You didn’t know if… if I’d _want_ you to call.” He repeats dazedly, setting down the carton in a puddle of juice. Tsukishima can feel Hinata’s eyes on him and knows he’s said too much already, alluded to everything he’s been trying to work up the courage to say. It takes way more effort than he expected to drag his eyes away from the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs and meet Hinata’s gaze head on. Hinata sniffs, whatever he sees in Tsukishima causing him to puff out his chest. He marches over to the fridge, turns to look at Tsukishima one last time, and then he’s ripping his own number from the front and stuffing the slip of paper into his mouth.

“Hey!” Tsukishima is by Hinata’s side so quick even he’s a little taken by surprise. “What are you doing?”

“You,” Hinata speaks around the paper, teeth snapping together, “have officially lost all number rights.”

“You can’t do that!”

“To think, I thought you’d actually call. I _waited_ for you to call.” He doesn’t sound angry so much as amused by the whole situation, which is confusing. Tsukishima clamps a hand onto one of his shoulders, attempting to wriggle his fingers into Hinata’s mouth with his other.

“Give it back! It’s mine! You can’t take it back once it’s given, you, you, you taker-backer!” Hinata snorts, twisting his face in every direction and shaking his head fiercely.

“I can do whatever I want! It’s my number!” Hinata’s body twists back a step; Tsukishima follows it, pressing into him even more.

“That you gave to me!” He heaves in a breath, puffs of air blowing across Hinata’s face and disturbing his hair slightly. It’s grown a little longer again. Or maybe he’s just inbetween haircuts. It’s not like Tsukishima knows. In the silence that follows Tsukishima listens to his thudding heart, worrying that Hinata can hear it too. Hinata swallows, his saliva thick around the fingers still in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he agrees somewhat belatedly, “but I was hoping it would be used for more than fridge decoration.” He grins, clearly proud of himself for managing to ingest paper. “What do all of the people you bring back here think, huh? How embarrassing. Having some random number on your fridge.”

“It’s not random.” Is it? Was that Hinata’s way of telling him it is? That these have all been random encounters? Hinata sucks in a breath, evidently surprised, so Tsukishima doesn’t tell him that it doesn’t matter either way; it’s not like there’s been anyone else to see it.

“Oh.” Tsukishima finally removes his fingers from around Hinata’s tongue, wiping the slobber down the front of Hinata’s chest, into his own t-shirt.

“Sorry,” he takes a step back so as not to be crowding Hinata in so much, “that was childish of me.” Hinata makes a whining sound at the back of his throat, jumping forwards and grabbing a fistful of Tsukishima’s top. There’s a second, just one, where they’re shuddering into each other’s faces and then Hinata’s kissing him. Completely sober. Tsukishima tries to make it last, leans in and chases his lips with his own, but it’s clear Hinata was aiming for a slap of a kiss, nothing hot or heated. He bounces on the back of his feet, grinning at Tsukishima.

“It’s fine to be childish sometimes!” He sounds so delighted with himself, so like he did when they were back at Karasuno, it causes Tsukishima’s heart to pang in a strange way. He leans forwards to capture Hinata again, but he’s already wriggled away from the fridge and is skipping lightly to Tsukishima’s bedroom.

“Hinata?” He follows slowly, unsure if he’s meant to or not. Hinata’s head whips out of the room just as he gets close enough. He’s thrown his shirt and trousers back on, is shrugging into the waistcoat Tsukishima knows he made fun of at least half a dozen times last night. But his bowtie is still nestled in his hair, his face still soft with a smile, so Tsukishima can’t help but feel it’s not all lost.

“Just remembered I promised to help Kenma with a thing!” It would be easy for Tsukishima to call him out on this lie, but he doesn’t, content to watch Hinata shuffle his way into his shoes instead. “So,” he pauses, eyes finding Tsukishima’s one last time, “I’ll catch you at the next one, okay?”

“Ah,” that’s a promise of sorts, isn’t it? A definite end game for Tsukishima to aim for. “Okay.” He can do that. He can wait a few more months. Hinata doesn’t offer to help with the washing up this time, knowing probably that Tsukishima wouldn’t let him anyway. After the door clicks shut behind him, Tsukishima discovers he still managed to throw his bed back together. T-shirt folded neatly as ever on top.


	4. Chapter 4

The problem with the promise of next time, Tsukishima discovers quickly, is that it’s indefinite. Who knows how long it will be until another one of their mutual friends decide to get married? Who knows if Tsukishima will even get invited to it? Who knows if by then Hinata hasn’t decided that he’d rather spend his drunken wedding receptions with someone else? Someone he sees more often than once a year. Someone who didn’t beg him years ago to help him get over his first love.

Tsukishima waits two months before the gnawing in his chest becomes unbearable and he decides he has to take action. Isn’t that what Yamamoto would want him to do? Isn't that what Hinata had said he would do? There’s probably a pre-prepared speech by Tanaka and Nishinoya somewhere that would herald his decision. Which is exactly why he finds himself on their doorstep one Friday evening, leaning against the bell heavily in order to not chicken out.

“Tsukki?” It’s Nishinoya who opens the door, rubbing his eyes as he peers up at Tsukishima. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your address from Tora.” He says by way of explanation, though that seems to baffle Nishinoya further.

“You got our address from Tora?” Maybe he was napping and that’s why he looks so bleary. “You talk to Tora a lot?”

“Urh, sometimes. He sends me videos of his cats.” And the occasional motivational message to _just do it_. This is Tsukishima’s version of just doing it.

“That’s nice,” Nishinoya smiles warmly, “Tora is nice.” He throws the door open for Tsukishima, pottering back inside his flat. Tsukishima follows him, closing the door gently behind them and stepping out of his shoes. He’s never been to their flat before and it’s a lot less crazy and obscene than he was expecting. For a start, there are no inappropriate photos on any of the walls and no odd smells. Actually it smells faintly like cookies, freshly baked.

“Who was it?” Tanaka flops his head over the top of their sofa, rubbing at his eyes too. It doesn’t take a genius to work out Tsukishima’s interrupted nap time; the dark lounge and repeating opening scene selection running on the DVD player are pretty obvious indicators. Nishinoya throws a thumb over his shoulder at Tsukishima, scratching at the skin just above the waistband of his shorts before clambering backwards over the sofa to fall into Tanaka’s lap.

“Ah! Tsukki!” From the warm smile that splits Tanaka’s face you’d think Tsukishima regularly visited them, or was at least invited this evening. Not that he’d messaged Yamamoto earlier that day asking for their address because he’d finally formulated a plan, but had no idea where they lived anymore. He only sees them at weddings too. “What are you doing? Take a seat!” Tanaka waves his hand at the empty space on the sofa and the arm chair next to it. The arm chair is the safer option so Tsukishima nods and settles himself down in it. It’s soft.

“Thank you.” Tanaka waves his hand in the air as if it’s no big deal, ruffling the top of Nishinoya’s head with his other hand, who, from the looks of things, fully intends to return to his nap.

“What brings you to our side of the city?” Tsukishima frowns at the way Nishinoya is nuzzling into Tanaka’s chest; maybe he should come back another time. Tanaka catches onto his gaze and chuckles, a deep rumbling noise as he kisses the top of Nishinoya’s head. “Don’t mind him; he’s always sleepy after he gets back from an away game.”

“Oh.”

“He finds it hard to sleep without me there.” It’s clear this is something Tanaka is insanely proud of. “Unless it’s him you wanted to see?”

“I kind of wanted to see both of you,” Tsukishima admits, picking at the material of his jeans. “I have a favour I wanted to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Tanaka perks up, shifting Nishinoya’s weight in his lap so that he can scooch forwards, closer to Tsukishima. “Is this about your mystery man?” Of course Tanaka would be dense enough to still think it was a mystery.

“Yeah.”

“Ah-hah! I knew it! You were so impressed with how we made all of Tora’s dreams come true that you have sought us out to hire as wingmen too! Commendable, truly, truly commendable!”

“Truly.” Echoes Nishinoya, holding out a thumbs-up when Tsukishima didn’t even know he was awake.

“So,” Tanaka licks his lips eagerly, “how can we help?”

“Uhm, actually,” Tsukishima squeeze his eyes closed. This was a lot less embarrassing in his imagination. “I was wondering if you two have ever thought about getting married?”

“Married?” That wakes Nishinoya up. He’s suddenly sitting upright in Tanaka’s lap and staring at Tsukishima as if he’s just confessed to being an alien all along.

“To each other.” Tsukishima clarifies, in case they thought he was offering a three-way proposal.

“Ah!” Tanaka’s face is rapidly growing red. “You came here to ask us to get married?”

“To each other…” The red must be catching, because Nishinoya’s face is starting to look flushed too.

“Yes.” Tsukishima picks at the skin around his nails. “It would help me a lot if you’d get married and have a huge reception.” He looks up at them, eyes flicking from one to the other and smiles. “And invite everyone from Karasuno.”

“Oh.” Nishinoya looks slightly taken aback. “Well, yeah, if we ever got married of course we’d invite everyone, right Ryuu?”

“Yeah! Naturally! We’d want all our friends to be there.” Tanaka swallows. “If we got married.”

“You could make Tora and Ennoshita the best men,” Tsukishima’s actually thought this through quite a lot, “that would be cute.” Nishinoya makes a sound at the back of his throat as if he’s being trodden on.

“That _would_ be cute!”

“You couldn’t get married in Japan though.” Which is annoying. It means Tsukishima will have to wait even longer for the after-party. “You’d have to go somewhere else and have the reception when you get back.”

“Oooh! A holiday!” Tanaka’s fingers curl around Nishinoya’s waist. “You’ve always said you wanted to go travelling!” Nishinoya turns to stare at him, his face flaring at the look of open adoration Tanaka’s wearing. He leans forwards, pressing their foreheads together gently.

“We’d make really good husbands.” It’s almost a whisper, almost not there at all he says it so quietly, but Tsukishima catches it, his heart lurching into his throat.

“Mhm,” Tanaka’s closed his eyes, his hands clenching tighter around Nishinoya, “the best.”

“I can’t believe we never thought of this before!” Nishinoya practically erupts, shattering the tender moment in an instant. “Of course we’d make the best husbands!”

“The best!” Tanaka agrees, cackling into Nishinoya’s shoulder.

“And that damn Kageyama beat us to it!”

“Yamaguchi too.” They both turn to stare at Tsukishima. “And Yachi.”

“We’ve been shown up by our own kouhai Ryuu, this is unbelievable.”

“Oikawa and Iwaizumi also got married.” This was Tsukishima’s trump card. It may have been over half a decade since either Tanaka or Nishinoya played for Karasuno, even longer since Aoba Johsai beat them, but the rivalry is still there. The need to be better than them in every possible way.

“That’s right.” Tanaka seems stunned. “They did! Like two years ago!”

“They’ve been beating us at a game we didn’t even know we were playing!” Nishinoya wails, tugging at his hair. “I can’t believe we let Oikawa one-up us like this! The shame.” He shudders.

“So,” Tanaka clears his throat, twisting himself so that Nishinoya nearly flops onto his back on the sofa next to him. He crawls on top slightly, “are we doing this then? You’re going to be my husband?”

“Ah!” Nishinoya drops back onto the sofa arm, covering his face with both of his hands.

“Yuu?” Tanaka crawls closer, nuzzling at the backs of Nishinoya’s knuckles, hand stroking soothingly along his sides.

“Yes!” Nishinoya explodes, wrapping his legs around Tanaka’s middle suddenly. “Yes! Okay! I’ll be your husband and you’ll be mine and, and, and,” he trails off, smile much too large for his face as he lunges upwards to catch Tanaka’s mouth in a kiss. Tsukishima didn’t think his plan through to this stage and suddenly realises how obvious it is that it would end up this way. He starts to slink out of the room slowly, hoping not to disturb them and praying that he’ll escape before any truly gross sounds.

“Tsukki!” Tanaka throws an arm out to stop him, grinning dopily above Nishinoya whose hair is splayed all over the place. “Thank you.”

“And Tora will marry Chikara because that’s the tradition of best men!” Nishinoya is still mumbling, fingers scrambling up Tanaka’s top. “And Tsukki will marry his mystery man because that’s how perfect endings go and all of us will be _way_ better at being married than anyone else!”

“But we’ll still be the best of the best!” Tanaka bites at Nishinoya’s nose, his own fingers dipping under Nishinoya’s shirt.

“Naturally!” Even without his great plan, Tsukishima is glad he came here today to do this.

“Congratulations, senpai.” He bows deeply, smirking at the squeals of delight he gets in response and leaves. He doesn’t have to tell them to make sure Hinata’s there; there’s not a chance that he wouldn’t be.

\- - - - - - -

The invitation arrives less than a week later and to Tsukishima’s surprise is dated for next month. He finds out through Yamamoto that they’ve decided to have a farewell party before the wedding and are going to travel south east Asia together afterwards for the ceremony and honeymoon.

“We’re going to get married in every country that lets us!” Nishinoya yells at him on the other end of the phone when he calls to say he’ll be there. “Tora and Chikara are going to fly out and meet us when we find our favourite country and be actual, official best men!” South east Asia isn’t too far away for that to be feasible, Tsukishima supposes, realising he never did get around to asking if it was Hinata who had been behind the camera in Ireland.

It’s not important though. Not when there’s a new suit to be fitted for and new shoes to buy and almost daily messages from Tanaka and Nishinoya demanding that he help them find a place to rent for the party, and a DJ, and all the decorations. He doesn’t care; this way he gets to plan the perfect evening too.

\- - - - - - -

He wears a pink tie.  

\- - - - - - -

He’s one of the first to arrive, as promised, helping Tanaka and Nishinoya to blow up balloons and assisting Yamamoto as he drags in props for a photo booth.

“They insisted!” He seems pretty excited about it too, so Tsukishima opts not to comment. He allows himself to be tugged inside for a ‘test run’ with the three of them though, faces pressed together and wearing huge yellow sunglasses with lenses in the shapes of stars.

“You have to show this one to your mystery man!” Tanaka tells him, forcing them all back in so he can get some for himself. “He’ll be unable to resist you!”

“Mystery man?” Yamamoto echoes, snorting at Tanaka’s raised eyebrow. “You can’t still not have figured it out.”

“Don’t think I won’t fight you just because you’re my best man!” Tanaka growls, mock-ferociously, before lunging at Yamamoto. He gets him into a head-lock, knuckles digging into his scalp, and Tsukishima takes that as his queue to leave.

He sits at the bar, tapping his feet along to the music. Hinata doesn’t arrive. Lots of other people mill around, Sugawara even worming a hug out of him. Tsukishima knocks back Hinata’s definition of a round – five vodka shots – and waits. Maybe he judged it all wrong. Maybe Hinata won’t show. Maybe when he said he’d see him at the next one he hadn’t actually meant it. Or maybe he had, but since then he’s found someone else. Someone who doesn’t mock his cooking skills, no matter how bad they are.

“Tsukki!”

“Yamaguchi?” It makes sense that he would be here, only Tsukishima hadn’t given it much thought. In fact, in the past few months, he hasn’t thought about Yamaguchi much at all. It’s weird seeing him unexpectedly, hair slicked back neatly and shirt pulled tight across his chest. There was a time when just the sight of that would cause Tsukishima to grow weak at the knees. It’s a little weird that it doesn’t. A good weird. A _finally_ weird. Something warm is bubbling inside of him and he wants to share it with Yamaguchi, his oldest friend, whose freckles and dimples no longer haunt his dreams. “You look good!” It’s not a lie. It doesn’t hurt him either. Yamaguchi smiles.

“You too! It feels like ages since I last saw you!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “too long.”

“You’ll have to come over for dinner some time, Hitoka is always asking after you.”

“Sorry,” he feels a pang of guilt; he’s been neglecting his best friend, “I’ve been busy the last few months.”

“So I hear!” His laugh is as soft as ever, occupying the smallest amount of space possible. “Noya-san told me you helped put all of this together. It’s really beautiful.” He gestures to the hall around them. It looks alright. Nothing too special. It’s as his eyes are sweeping the room, noting the queue for the photo booth and Kuroo blatantly untying a balloon and sucking out the helium that he sees it. A flash of orange on the dance floor. All this time he’s been waiting in the wrong place.

“Thanks,” he smiles at Yamaguchi and it feels natural on his face, not even a little forced, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the dance floor, afraid that if he does so he’ll lose track of him. “Sorry, Yamaguchi, I have to run off.”

“Now?” Yamaguchi looks taken aback and Tsukishima doesn’t judge him for it. There was a time not too long ago after all when he’d have dropped everything to spend the evening with Yamaguchi. A loud cackle reaches his ears from the dance floor, dangerous in the amount of space it dominates.

“Yeah,” he turns to catch Yamaguchi’s gaze, “now.”

“Oh.” There’s something soft in the look Yamaguchi gives him, something that makes Tsukishima think maybe he knew all this time. It’s possible that he had always known how Tsukishima felt and, like Tsukishima, had never been brave enough to bring it up. Only now it doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.

“I’ll message you about dinner.” He really means it, dipping forwards to hug Yamaguchi. He feels foreign and familiar all at once. “See ya.” He says, and makes his way to the dance floor.

He finds Hinata easily enough, being spun around erratically by Bokuto. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but his suit jacket has already come off, shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his tie is hanging disarrayed around his neck. He watches for a moment, amazed that he never noticed how beautiful the flush on Hinata’s face really is, and then realises it’s Bokuto who’s made him this way and decides to act. Fast. He was definitely in line after Kageyama; there’s just no way he’s going to let this overgrown bird muscle his way in.

“Tsukki!” Bokuto spots him first, pulling Hinata in close and swaying him on his hips. “You’re drunk enough to dance already?” Well, that’s a slightly better reputation than being the guy no one expects to turn up to weddings.

“Not really.” The blood in his veins is buzzing and he suspects from more than just the vodka. “I just couldn’t wait any longer.” Bokuto nods in understanding.

“The music calls to me too!” Tsukishima stares at him. There’s definitely no way he’s giving up Hinata for this idiot.

“Right. Do you mind if I cut in?” Bokuto is visibly bewildered by this request, eyes sliding between Tsukishima and Hinata slowly.

“Oh.” He drops his hand from Hinata’s body, tugging his other one out of Hinata’s grasp. “Ohoho!” Perhaps Yamamoto was right and Tsukishima is too transparent after all.

“Sure thing Tsukki! You can take this dance! And the next one! And all of the dances that follow!” Hinata still hasn’t said anything, but he smiles at Bokuto’s words, watching him flap backwards into the bodies around them, holding his arms out as if he’s dancing with an invisible person. Tsukishima steels himself, using Hinata’s momentary distraction to slip into the space Bokuto left.

“Hi.” A good, strong opening if Tsukishima’s ever heard one.

“Hi.” Hinata’s face is warmer than before. It makes Tsukishima feel itchy where they’re connected.

“You weren’t at the bar.” _I was waiting for you._  Hinata’s hums thoughtfully.

“Well, the thing is, I’m not really sad anymore.” He smirks. It’s ridiculous how attractive it is on him. “Are you going to serenade me again?”

“If you want me to.” And he means it. If Hinata asked him to sing for him right now, he would. Badly and loudly to every song that played all evening. He’s already had to watch one man he loves walk away with someone else; there’s no way he’s going to let that happen again. _Next time,_ Hinata had said all that time ago, _next time I won't be too scared_. It’s simple when he thinks of it like that. Hinata’s eyes widen a fraction, gaze dropping to regard his tie.

“Maybe later.”

“Whenever you want.” Tsukishima can’t actually dance very well, way closer to Kageyama’s than Bokuto’s skill level, but he tries his best, holding his arm out for Hinata to spin under and it makes Hinata giggle, the sound igniting Tsukishima deep inside and it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

“You’re wearing your pink tie again.”

“You got your ear pierced.”

“You got your hair cut.”

“You got new shoes.”

“So did you!”

“You didn’t get any taller.”

“Idiot!” Hinata flushes, hand vibrating in Tsukishima’s. “Not all of us are born part beanpole!”

“You’re really cute.” It’s almost relieving to finally admit it out loud. Hinata flushes from his neck to his forehead; every inch of skin Tsukishima can see pink. “I’m going to buy you the reddest cocktail they have.” He decides, tightening his grip as Hinata attempts to pull away and swat at him. He drags him closer, uncaring that this isn’t a slow song, not mindful of anyone that might happen to see him. “But first I’m going to kiss you.”

“Oh.” The fight leaves Hinata all at once, his mouth suspended half-open. “You’re going to kiss me… soberly?”

“If that’s alright with you.” He tries to time the swaying of his hips with Hinata’s and fails miserably. But at least he’s trying. Yamamoto always tells him that’s what counts the most; good things come to those who always try their hardest.

“Yeah.” Hinata decides eventually, hand smoothing down from Tsukishima’s shoulder to fiddle with his tie. “Okay.”

It’s not like Tsukishima’s ever forgotten any of the kisses he’s shared with Hinata, but more like he’s actively tried not to think about them. It felt like he was abusing a favour from a friend, because before, that’s what all the kisses had been; a favour from a friend. Before they’d been stuck in this strange place where it was okay to do, but not okay to think about and certainly not okay to feel. Tsukishima thinks he wants to feel Hinata forever.

He trails his hand down from Hinata’s to cup under his jaw, smoothing his thumb across the softness of his skin as he presses deeper onto him. It’s Hinata who opens his mouth first, sweeping a tongue cautiously across Tsukishima’s bottom lip, tracing the shape of his mouth as if this is the first kiss they’ve shared. Uncertain. New.

“You’re amazing.” Tsukishima breathes onto his lips, dragging his hand up through Hinata’s hair and tugging him closer by the hip. Hinata steals his way into his mouth, tongue wet and heavy and Tsukishima lets him, lets him explore the roof of his mouth and lick against his tongue softly. Whatever he wants, Tsukishima’s decided he’ll give it to him.

“Holy shit!” They snap apart, staring wide eyed at Tanaka next to them. “Shouyou is your mystery guy?” A piece of a sausage roll falls out of his mouth. Hinata groans, dropping his head onto Tsukishima’s chest.

“Kinda.” There’s really no point in denying it, but his answer appears to surprise Hinata, who rolls his head up dazedly, chin resting over Tsukishima’s thudding heart and round eyes blinking up at him.

“Oh.” Tanaka shakes himself, pinching the soft skin under his own arm. “ _Oh_. Right, well, congratulations!” he swallows visibly, “I guess I’ll just.” He turns away, dashing out of sight with Nishinoya’s name on his lips.

“So…” Hinata smiles, as huge and real as Tsukishima remembers from when they were teenagers, only it’s not even a little bit annoying this time. “You said something about a drink?”  

\- - - - - - -

Tsukishima doesn’t wake up with a complete hangover, which is nice. His mouth is a little dry, and he definitely remembers testing out a bunch of different fruity cocktails, but there were no tequila shots. He lies there for a moment, listening to Hinata humming a tune that Tsukishima doesn’t recognise; it sounds happy. He finds his glasses next to the glass of water and painkillers on his bedside table; why did he never notice how cute that was before? He laughs at his tie swinging precariously on his bedroom doorknob. Finally: some progress.

The summer sun is shining at exactly the right angle through Tsukishima’s kitchen to give the impression that Hinata is glowing. He’s in Tsukishima’s t-shirt again. The one with the cartoon dinosaur from the _Rugrats._ He’s rolling his hips back and forth in time with his humming and Tsukishima’s so distracted by just how good he looks here, in Tsukishima’s kitchen illuminated in the early morning light, that it takes him a moment to register what Hinata’s doing.

“Is that a funnel?” Hinata looks over his shoulder, fond smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Did you deliberately re-arrange all the cupboards in your kitchen to sabotage me?” He seems more amused than angry though. Tsukishima shrugs.

“I thought it would be nice to have a fresh start.”

“Mhm,” Hinata nods, flicking his attention momentarily back to what is definitely a funnel in his hands, “well jokes on you because I found this guy and he’s my new best friend.”

“Suki and Ali are going to be devastated.”

“Tsukki!” Hinata’s eyes snap back to him, eyes wide, “you remembered!”

“How could I forget something like that? Idiot.” Hinata grins at him, entirely dopey, and Tsukishima thinks about calling him out on it but he’s afraid that might chase it away. It’s a nice look on him.

“Ah!” Hinata startles, head snapping back down to his hands where he’s absentmindedly aimed the funnel all over the counter-top instead of into the pan. “This is your fault,” he accuses lowly.

“How did you work that out?”

“It was going fine until you showed up here all soft and smiley!” Tsukishima thinks the funnel is actually his new best friend if it has the power to make Hinata pout like that.

“You know you’re the only person in the entire world who would use a funnel to make scrambled eggs, right?”

“Yeah, so? What if that’s my secret to my success?” Tsukishima raises an eyebrow.

“Introducing,” he pitches his voice at a low rumble like that one guy does on the television shopping channel, “the funnel: now you too can make the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs.” Hinata growls mischievously, eyes flicking from the messy counter to Tsukishima’s face. He doesn’t break eye contact as he uses his bare hand to shepherd the eggy mess into the pan, clicking the heat on high and starting up his humming again.

A few minutes later Tsukishima pokes at the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs on his plate. Looking at them objectively they actually resemble scrambled eggs more than anything else Hinata’s ever presented him with. Had he not see the counter incident he might be inclined to even say they tasted alright. Soggy bread aside.

“You don’t actually have to eat them.” Hinata’s eyes are dazzling, talking around his own mouthful. “Who knows when the last time you cleaned your kitchen was.”

“You’re eating them.”

“I trust you.” Hinata rolls one shoulder as if it’s no big deal. Tsukishima’s suddenly thankful for the soggy bread; it’s the perfect cure for a dry mouth. He watches the way Hinata has to use both hands to hold one of Tsukishima’s glasses without sloshing the orange juice all over the place, is fascinated by the way his tongue flicks out to catch stray drops off his lips. Why has he never noticed things like this before? He wants to continue noticing them forever.

“Don’t go today.” Hinata pauses, studying him carefully.

“What?”

“Today,” _tomorrow, the next day_ , Tsukishima holds his hands together to stop them from jittering, “phone Natsu or Kenma or whoever and tell them that you can’t make it.” Hinata cocks his head at an angle, just slightly, but it’s so cute Tsukishima feels it physically pang through him. He clears his throat. _Guns blazing_ , that’s what Yamamoto would tell him. “You can’t make it because today you’re going on a date with me.”

“Ah.” Hinata’s entire face lights up, crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as his giggles escape from him. “You’re so stupid!” He snorts, busying himself with the scrambled eggs on his plate so as to avoid Tsukishima’s gaze. “Of course I reserved the day for you.” He stuffs a huge amount of scrambled eggs into his mouth, but it’s not enough to distract from the redness of his face, the slight trembling of his lip. “But if you gift me your funnel, I’ll think about giving you tomorrow too.”

“Shit.” It’s too much. And Tsukishima knows he shouldn’t because he literally just watched the World’s Worst Scrambled Eggs get ferried in, but he can’t control himself. He lunges across the counter-top, capturing Hinata’s lips with his own. They're soft, round, if a little eggy. He jerks away when he feels Hinata opening his mouth. “Gross.” But he can feel Hinata’s smile mirrored across his face.

“Mhm,” Hinata swallows slowly, pushing their plates to the side as he licks his lips. “Super gross!” And then he’s scrambling across the counter, laughter bubbling out of him to capture Tsukishima for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank milkybar-chan (@stalemateBecks) for screaming tsukkihina ideas w/ me & for proofing this mess. honestly he's such a good egg idk what i'd do without him. ♡


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